


The Breath Before the Phrase

by PorcupineGirl



Series: Glitter in the Air [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (college student at age 30), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety, Bisexual Dean, College Student Dean, Comeplay, Dating, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, Falling In Love, Gay Castiel, Happy Ending, Insecurity, Jealousy, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Miscommunication, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Phone Sex, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Widower Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 76,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When librarian Castiel Novak travels to Chicago for a literary festival, the last thing he expects is a weekend-long whirlwind romance with the man of his dreams. In the sanctuary of his hotel room, any doubts or insecurities crumble under the strength of their connection.</p><p>But once they return to their hometown and real lives, his confidence falters and he starts to question whether Dean really feels the same way. When they're together, everything clicks and the chemistry is undeniable. But little things start to add up, leaving Castiel wondering if what he thought they shared in Chicago was just an illusion.</p><p>  <i>So. Gorgeous, Vonnegut fan, and friends with one of the most up-and-coming new YA authors of the moment. This guy was gay librarian catnip.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [Glitter in the Air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3stsDXki__U) by Pink.
> 
> _The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn_   
>  _The thunder before the lightning and the breath before the phrase,_   
>  _"Have you ever felt this way?"_

Castiel was pleased to find that he'd arrived early enough to get a seat fairly close to the stage. This was his third year coming to the Printer's Row Lit Fest in an official capacity, and he knew how crowded it could get. He'd be liveblogging this panel for his library's website, and he had definitely learned that sitting in the back is a problem if you want to be able to see all the panelists' facial expressions and gestures for a task like that.

As the teen librarian for the central branch of the Kansas City Public Library, this panel was one of the main events of the Festival for him: Young Adult science fiction authors, featuring a local author whose debut novel was making national waves. Most of the other panels he'd be attending, he'd just be writing up a summary for the website, but since Charlie Bradbury was from Lawrence her panel warranted special treatment. Well-deserved special treatment, he thought; he loved her book and had been recommending it to anyone he could, teen or adult.

He settled into his seat in the second row and pulled his laptop out. The panel wouldn't be starting for a good half an hour, so once he got his liveblogging software set up and tested, he opened up Twitter and spent ten minutes or so going through his feed. He retweeted a couple of things from YA authors, and sent his own tweet reminding followers about the liveblog. They had someone who handled most of the social media for the library system, but he'd decided a couple years ago that if he wanted to keep his programming relevant to teenagers, he needed to be involved in this side of things hands-on. So he'd taken over (or created) all of the teen-centric accounts: a blog on the library website, plus accounts on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and, most recently, Tumblr.

Slightly bored, he pulled out his phone to take a few pictures of the gathering crowd. He posted one to Instagram, again with a reminder about the liveblog, and was about to take a couple more when he stopped dead. On the little screen of his telephone was an absolutely gorgeous man, sitting at the other end of the row behind him. All cheekbones and full lips and big round eyes, not to mention the _very_ nice arms showing below the sleeves of his t-shirt. Speaking of which—he was a gorgeous man with good taste, judging from the Vonnegut shirt he was wearing.

Castiel took one more shot (telling himself that it wasn't creepy because it was just a crowd shot that this guy _happened_ to be in, not a stalkery zoomed-in photo of him… not that that wasn't tempting) and then lowered the camera. The man was talking on his phone, and as Castiel watched he broke out in a smile that proved that apparently the most attractive man on earth (or at the _very_ least the most attractive man in Chicago) could, in fact, look even better.

Castiel finally pulled his eyes away and back to his laptop, double-checking the liveblogging software and posting a "Welcome, we'll be starting in five minutes" message. He tried to keep busy checking the RSS feeds for various literary blogs, but just before the panelists were to take the stage he gave in to temptation and turned for one last look at Mr Gorgeous Vonnegut Fan.

And was startled to find the man looking right back at him. The man's eyes widened for just a second, startled to have been caught staring, but he didn't break eye contact. If they'd been sitting near each other, Castiel would have been too embarrassed at having been caught looking himself, but since the guy was on the other end of the room he let his eyes linger just a bit longer than absolutely necessary. Luckily, a woman came onstage to introduce the panelists just before the mutual staring could get awkward (or, well, any _more_ awkward).

The panel was entertaining and informative, and Castiel hoped he'd managed to do it justice with his limited journalistic (and photographic) skills. Charlie Bradbury came across as intelligent, funny, and kind-hearted (her response to a little girl who asked the panelists for their advice on becoming a writer was simply heartwarming), and Castiel found himself looking forward to the signing she'd be doing at the library in a month even more than he already had been.

After he got his laptop put away, he looked back to where Vonnegut Fan had been sitting, and was disappointed that the man was nowhere to be seen. He found himself wondering if the guy would be at another YA panel (since he himself would be at all of them), but sighed and realized that it was more likely he was here because he was into sci-fi, not YA.

But as he turned to file out of his row of seats, Castiel glanced up to where the panelists were packing up and suddenly the mystery of why Vonnegut Fan was at a YA sci-fi panel was solved: There he was, hugging Charlie Bradbury hard enough to lift her off the floor. So. Gorgeous, Vonnegut fan, _and_ friends with one of the most up-and-coming new YA authors of the moment. And if she was as great a person as she seemed to be during the panel, that probably said nothing but good things about his personality. This guy was gay librarian catnip.

 _And probably straight as an arrow_ , his mind unhelpfully added. He frowned and reminded his mind that the guy had been looking at _him_ , too, and their staring match had definitely gone on long enough to qualify as Not Quite Hetero. But at the moment, Vonnegut Fan was in an animated conversation with Ms Bradbury, and hanging around to wait for him to finish definitely _would_ tip things past the point of awkward, so Castiel slipped out of the room to return to the outdoor portion of the festival. It was only Saturday morning; assuming the guy wasn't _only_ there for his friend's panel (and the t-shirt did suggest that he'd be interested in a book festival generally), Castiel had plenty of time to run into him again.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Printers Row had been Castiel's favorite book festival for a long time; he'd gotten his Master's degree in Chicago and first came as a student, with no official responsibilities to fit his schedule around. He was always glad now to have an excuse to come back to the Windy City. And while BookExpo was great, the outdoor vendors and stages gave this event a character you'd never find in a convention center. He had two more panels he'd agreed to cover for the library, but was able to spend most of the rest of the day digging through piles of books in the vendor tents and wandering over to Grant Park for lunch. 

By the time the vendors were closing down at six, Castiel was disappointed not to have run into Vonnegut Fan again. But there was always Sunday.

He'd agreed to meet up with Hannah, the other librarian KCPL had sent to the event, for dinner. She, as it turned out, had never had Chicago-style pizza. Castiel spent ten minutes trying to explain the difference between Giordano's and Lou Malnati's before giving up and dragging her to the one he missed more at the moment (Malnati's). 

Bless her heart, Hannah was just not the type to fall in love with a pizza. While Castiel was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, she was dressed primly in a navy skirt and blazer, which he couldn't imagine was comfortable in the June heat. On the plane into Chicago, she had fussed over their itineraries until Castiel had insisted that he was happy to just put the panels he was covering for work on his schedule and entertain himself the rest of the time. And when they'd gotten coffee that morning before the panels, Castiel had watched with amusement (and the barista with annoyance) as she counted out her exact change three times before handing it over.

On the whole, she reminded him a lot of himself—until about his junior year of college, when his friend Balthazar had finally convinced him that his world would not end if he occasionally got drunk on Friday night, or slept through an 8am class, or wore a shirt that didn't have buttons. He'd even managed to get Castiel laid once or twice (though when Balthazar himself volunteered to be the first, "just to break you in, Cassie," Castiel had closed his dorm room door in his friend's face).

Hannah did seem to enjoy the meal, at least. But when Castiel asked if she wanted to head to the after-hours events with him, she got a little concerned crease between her eyebrows and tutted about some work she needed to get done. So he let her head back to the hotel after extracting a promise that she would get a hot dog (a proper one) for lunch the next day if he didn't see her before then.

By nine, he'd watched a literary-themed improv show and half a poetry slam, then made his way to the bar. He settled in and ordered a whiskey, letting his eyes scan around one side of the room as he waited for it. He'd already brushed off come-ons from several women, but only one guy had approached him—and that guy took all of about two minutes of conversation to count himself out ("Yeah, I don't really read books. I just come to this because it's full of hot geeks like yourself"). And, of course, the one guy he was hoping to run into had not magically appeared. It's not like Castiel got laid at _every_ book festival he went to, but they did tend to be good places to pick up someone who was cute, able to carry on a conversation about topics Castiel was interested in, and also out of town for the weekend. So he scanned the crowd, hopeful.

He was about halfway through his drink when he heard a rough voice beside him.

"I think I saw you at a panel earlier today."

Castiel looked up and—oh. God was real, and he loved Castiel Novak. The proof of that was wrapped up in a neat package before him—gorgeous (even moreso up close), good taste in books, good taste in friends, _and_ a voice that, while not quite as low and gravelly as Castiel's own, was made of sex. Very rumbly sex.

"Yes, I think you did." As he replied, he gave Vonnegut Fan the kind of smile that would hopefully have him running for the hills if he was straight. No hills were run for. In fact, VF (first priority: _name_ ), after letting his eyes linger on Castiel's mouth, returned his own version of the smile.

"Dean," Dean offered, extending a hand.

"Castiel." And when he touched Dean's hand, the electricity that sparked the air between them startled him. He was not expecting this. Flirtation, yes. Sex, hopefully. But this? This kind of chemistry was a bonus.

"Sadly," Dean said after the handshake lingered a few seconds longer than necessary before breaking, "I think you and I must have different tastes, because I know for a fact you weren't at any of the other panels and stuffI went to today. I checked."

Castiel smiled down at his drink.

"As it happens, I'm here for work," he told Dean, looking back up into _Jesus Christ intense up this close_ green eyes. "I'm a teen librarian, so I was covering all the Young Adult panels. You were definitely not at any of those. I checked."

Dean laughed. "No, I was not. I don't really read much of that." The bartender came over then, and Dean told her he'd have what Castiel was drinking.

"I had a feeling that would be the case," Castiel admitted. "I saw you hugging Charlie Bradbury after the panel. I'm assuming she was the only reason you were at that one. You're friends, I take it?"

Dean's face lit up. "Yeah, man, Charlie and me go way back. We've been buddies since high school. I hardly see her lately, with all her touring and speaking and signing and stuff for the book. That panel was the first time I've seen her in a month."

Castiel was about to say something inane like "That must have been nice" when he suddenly realized the significance of what Dean had just said.

"So you're from Lawrence?" His eyes snapped to Dean's, sharp and curious.

"Shit, man," Dean said, an easy smile on his face, "how big a fan are you, you even know where she's from? But yeah, I grew up in Lawrence."

"No, it's—" Cas chuckled a bit, realizing how he must sound. "Not that I'm not a fan, I do love her book. But I also run the teen section of the central branch of the Kansas City Public Library. So a local writer who's generating comparisons to Suzanne Collins or Veronica Roth? Kind of a big deal in my work life."

"You're shittin' me." Dean was blinking at him, something like surprise or confusion written across his face.

Castiel narrowed his eyes, considering this. "I assumed you knew that Ms Bradbury's book is gaining in popularity quickly. Some people think it might lead a new wave of space westerns to push out the post-apocalyptic scenarios that have been in fashion."

This drew a laugh out of Dean, whose face relaxed. "Not that, you big nerd. You seriously live in KC? I live in Lenexa."

It was Castiel's turn to look surprised. When Dean had said he "grew up in" Lawrence, for some reason Castiel had automatically assumed that he'd left the area since then. They looked at each other for a moment, and the energy between them changed. Sure, this could still be a one night stand, just like it could be if they'd met in a bar in Kansas City. But even introducing the _possibility_ of anything beyond that, when they'd both come into this assuming there was none, caused things to shift subtly. Thankfully, Dean still seemed as interested as Castiel, so while the energy had changed, it was still as charged as ever.

"What are the odds?" he finally said, a small smile on his lips. "And I would be careful who you call a 'big nerd' when you're wearing a shirt bearing Kurt Vonnegut's signature."

Dean snorted, then leaned in conspiratorially. "I hate to break it to you, man, but, uh… your shirt says 'Property of Ravenclaw Quidditch Team' on it. I mean, wearing a Harry Potter shirt is one thing, but you're a freaking Ravenclaw? Come on."

Castiel looked down at his shirt, biting his lower lip. "I will concede that I may, in fact, be a big nerd. Possibly even a huge nerd. I hope you're not too disappointed." Dean did not look disappointed. "But back to the topic at hand, no, I was not shitting you. I live near Westport. Although I think I may be aging out of my neighborhood. One of my neighbors found out I'm over thirty and since then I've overheard them discussing which nursing home to send me to."

Dean nudged him with his elbow. "Gonna move out to the suburbs with the rest of us boring-ass adults?"

"Much as it pains me, I think I may be legally obligated to. So what do you do, Dean? And after all that, you'd better have a less nerdy answer than 'librarian.'" If Castiel had to guess, he'd say "model," but he supposed that was unlikely.

"Nah, not nerdy at all. I'm just a mechanic. Work in my uncle's shop back in Lawrence, actually, same place I've worked since I was a teenager. Mostly just general stuff, but we restore classic cars as sort of a sideline, that's pretty fun."

Castiel had to admit, the image of this man bent over a car, glistening with sweat and streaked with grease was not at all unappealing. He raised an eyebrow. "A job that requires spatial reasoning skills and a detailed understanding of complicated machinery? I'm sorry, Dean, but that's at least a little nerdy."

By this point, they were sitting close enough that their arms were brushing as they leaned on the bar, and couldn't stop grinning at each other. Whatever had started out charging the air between them had grown thick and intoxicating. Castiel had flirted his way into his share of strangers' beds. This… was not that. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't that, because while he did sort of have to continually prevent himself from pushing Dean up against the bar and having his way with him, he also sort of wanted to spend the next several hours just talking to him.

"That's a dirty lie and you know it," Dean said, taking a drink of his whiskey. But then he leaned in, biting his lip, and lowered his voice. "Look, I'll admit it, okay? I am a little bit of a closet nerd. Not, like, _Ravenclaw_ nerdy, because c'mon, buddy. But I did recently go back to school to get a bachelor's in creative writing. In fact, I keep telling Charlie I wanna be her when I grow up, which, trust me, is pretty much the nerdiest goal a person could have. That girl could give Bill Gates a run for his money in that department."

Castiel couldn't help gaping a little. "You're getting a what?"

"A bachelor's in creative writing?" Dean looked a little uncomfortable, like he thought maybe Castiel was going to think this was ridiculous for some reason.

"I'm sorry," Castiel finally said, shaking his head. "I'm just trying to figure out if you are a real person, or some kind of persona cleverly devised by a performing artist to be as attractive to me as humanly possible."

Dean smiled down into his drink and actually _blushed_ a little and _oh God_. Castiel had to suppress yet another impulse to drag the man straight to his hotel room in favor of finding out more about him—because so far, every opportunity to find out more had worked out _beautifully_.

"So where are you going to school, UMKC?"

"Oh, uh, no, KU. So that's back in Lawrence, too."

Castiel tilted his head to one side, confused. "Why do you live in Lenexa if you work and go to school in Lawrence?"

As soon as he asked the question, he wished he hadn't, because Dean immediately froze, looking down at his glass. Castiel hadn't expected it to be such a loaded question, but Dean clearly didn't really want to answer.

"Well, uh," Dean fumbled, "it's only like a half hour commute, not a ton of traffic, so it's not that bad. I know people who have worse in-town." He stopped and licked his lips, then finally looked up at Castiel again, holding up a finger. "You know what? Hang on a second." He signaled to the bartender. "Could we get a couple more of these? Thanks." 

Then he turned back to Castiel and appeared to steel himself. "Here's the thing. We are not _nearly_ drunk enough to get to the sharing-depressing-personal-stories portion of the festivities. So I'll give you the condensed version for now. Long story short, I was married, my wife worked in Overland Park, so we bought a place in Lenexa. Then, uh. She died a couple years back. And I, uh. I just haven't gotten a new place yet. I hate moving all my shit, and it's not exactly a great market for selling, and, I dunno, probably a dozen other things."

By that point, their new drinks had arrived, and Dean finished off his first one in one swallow.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said quietly. "I really didn't mean to dredge up something like that."

Dean shrugged. "No way you coulda known. But like I said, _not_ drunk enough to go into more detail, so let's talk about something else."

Which they did, for another hour and a half. They stuck to lighter topics, like their tastes in books and music and their favorite barbecue places back home, and the conversation flowed freely. Castiel learned that Dean was hoping to write horror, but also read a good bit of sci-fi and fantasy. He listened to classic rock almost exclusively, but eventually admitted to a _slight_ thing for Taylor Swift. When Castiel asked if he was a Gates or Bryant man, he rolled his eyes and said that Zarda beat them both but he missed Quick's. They agreed that Oklahoma Joe's was good, but overrated and trendy.

Eventually there was a comfortable lull in the conversation. They'd finished their second drinks slowly, then when Castiel had switched to water Dean had, as well. So he felt lightly buzzed and relaxed, but nowhere near drunk. It was nice, but what was nicer was that their stools had migrated toward each other until they were nearly touching. Better still, they themselves were pressed together from shoulder to knee, their hands wandering freely to each other's knee, thigh, arm, back as they talked.

"So, I have an idea," Castiel said, bumping Dean's shoulder with his. Dean raised his eyebrows. "I would very much like to keep getting to know you, but this place is getting pretty crowded. There's a wine shop a couple of blocks away. I say, we head over there and get a bottle, take it back to my hotel room, and continue this conversation with a bit more privacy."

Dean smiled, looking very on board with this plan. "So what happens when the wine's gone?"

Castiel's hand was on Dean's thigh by this point, and he stroked his thumb slowly over the denim. "I guess we'll find out."

He saw Dean glance at his mouth, and he did the same, but neither of them leaned in. The tension was there, the certainty that they both wanted it, but at the same time… Castiel knew it was ridiculous, but he didn't want their first kiss to be at a bar. Which was truly, _truly_ absurd, because who cares where your first kiss with a one night stand is? "First kiss" isn't even a concept that applies to a one night stand. But he was pretty sure that by this point, they were both kind of on board with the idea of this potentially not being one night, and by some mutual unspoken agreement managed to let the tension lie.

They settled their tab and headed out into the night. Almost as soon as they were outside, Dean's hand slipped into Castiel's easily, like they'd done it a hundred times before. They kept talking as Castiel led them to the shop, now shifting to talking about their jobs and Dean's studies. A bit later, Dean's arm slipped around his waist as they studied the wide selection on the shop's shelves. He glanced at Dean, and for a second that tension was back—their faces were inches apart, and they both wanted to close the gap. But they didn't.

As they exited the shop, hand in hand again and carrying a bottle of cabernet, Castiel had another idea. "So have you been to Chicago before?"

"Nope. I have no idea where we are, or how to get to the hotel." Dean grinned. "Hell, I probably couldn't get us back to the bar we just left."

"Did you get a chance to look around the neighborhood today, or did you stay at the Lit Fest the whole time?"

Dean shrugged. "Mostly stayed there. Charlie dragged me somewhere a few blocks away for dinner, but that's it."

"Well, we're only about three blocks from the Hilton. But do you mind going a little out of our way?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sure. You're a native, I'll trust you."

"Two years here hardly makes me a native," Castiel laughed, "but I do know that this is a very nice area to walk around."

They continued their conversation while Castiel led them east, past the hotel, across the bridge, and toward the rose garden.

"Oh wow," Dean said as the buildings gave way to greenery. "How did I not know this was here?"

"Let me guess, you took the highway to get downtown instead of Lake Shore Drive. Rookie mistake." Castiel grinned and tugged on his hand."Come on, the fountain is great at night."

A few minutes later they emerged from the tree-lined path and could see Buckingham Fountain in the plaza ahead of them, lit up in a crazy burst of color in the night.

"Dude, that's pretty nice." Dean picked up his pace a little, and Castiel was pleased that his idea was clearly appreciated.

"Holy crap," Dean said when they finally got near the fountain. "I know we got a lot of fountains in KC, but I don't know if we've got anything this massive."

"I don't believe so," Castiel said as he slipped his arm around Dean's waist. They strolled around the fountain for a bit, Dean commenting occasionally on the light show or the view of the city.

When they eventually stopped, Dean leaned in and nudged Castiel's temple with his nose. Castiel turned toward him, and their faces were inches apart.

"Thanks for dragging me over here, Cas," Dean murmured. "The view is gorgeous." He grinned and nodded to his right slightly. "Fountain's nice, too."

"My pleasure." Castiel smiled at both the cheesy compliment and the casual nickname. Dean certainly wasn't the first person to call him that, but the others were all people he'd known for months or years first. Not a couple of hours.

This time, they let the tension carry them toward each other. As they kissed, Castiel lifted the hand that wasn't around Dean's waist to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair. The kiss started out gently, but quickly became intense. _Like everything else about us tonight_ , Castiel thought as Dean's arms pulled him in tighter. They stayed like that for long minutes, tasting and touching and holding each other, until Castiel suddenly realized that Dean still had the wine bottle in one hand, limiting his movement somewhat.

He pulled back, but the suggestive invitation to move this to his hotel room that he'd intended to give died on his lips as his eyes met Dean's. They stood there for another minute, pressed closely together, looking into each other's eyes as a silent understanding passed between them that this was not, in fact, a one night stand. This was a beginning.

They did eventually make it to the hotel, stopping repeatedly to kiss and/or grope each other. They laughed and talked the entire way, both a little giddy from the release of the tension that had been building all night.

When they got to his room, Castiel looked around and realized that the only thing he had to put the wine in was the hotel's water glasses. They shrugged and drank wine out of squat little water glasses as they curled into each other, sitting against the headboard of the bed.

By their second glass the conversation had, in fact, turned to more serious topics. They were surprised to discover that when it came to their upbringing, they had a lot in common. Both had lost their mother at a young age, just old enough to remember her. Both had a father who did not deal well with the loss, becoming distant and finding ways to stay away from their children—though while Castiel's father did this via his work, Dean's had hidden in a bottle. Castiel realized how lucky he was that at least _his_ father's version hadn't required him to drop out of school at sixteen to support their family.

The results were startlingly similar, though: a childhood spent relying on family friends to act as parents, and as they got older, a need to care for their younger siblings. Dean had just one younger brother, unlike Castiel's large family. He had cared for both Anael and Puriel, twins three years his junior, with only a bit of help from his well-meaning but unfailingly irresponsible older brother Gabriel. Though, again, he never had to actually keep a roof over their heads.

It was nearly two a.m. when Castiel drained the last drops from his glass. Dean pulled it from his hand and set it over on the nightstand, next to his own empty glass.

"Looks like the wine is gone," Dean purred into Castiel's ear. "Now what?"

And then they were kissing again, but this wasn't the slow, romantic kiss by the fountain, nor the playful kisses that had gotten them back to the hotel. There was only one place a kiss like this led, and Castiel was more than happy to go along for the ride.

His legs were already tangled with Dean's, but now he slid one over so that he could straddle Dean fully, pressing him back into the headboard. Dean moaned and pulled at Castiel's shirt, and soon they were both naked from the waist up and writhing skin-against-skin. Castiel moved down to kiss and nip and suck Dean's neck and shoulders. Castiel was in decent shape from running, but Dean clearly did some kind of strength training to be as toned as he was. Just running his hands over Dean's biceps sent a shiver down Castiel's spine as he imagined what Dean could do to him with that all muscle.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean gasped, his head falling back and his hands gripping Castiel's ass. "God, I want you. Been thinking about this all day, all fucking day since I saw you in that room."

Castiel moaned and ground his crotch against Dean's, both of them hard in their jeans. The thick denim was clearly a problem.

"Mmmm, lay down." He tugged at Dean until they were finally horizontal. Well, until Dean was horizontal. Still straddling him, Castiel sat up and started to work on undoing Dean's pants. Dean's hands wandered over his chest and shoulders and abs while he did.

"You are easily the hottest thing I have seen in a very long time," Dean growled as Castiel pulled the zipper down. Castiel could feel himself blush, but was too busy to feel flustered by the compliment.

Castiel finally got Dean's jeans off of him, then removed his own. Dean's eyes were on him the whole time, and the scrutiny only turned him on more. He crawled back up Dean's body, lying flush against it so that their cocks were pressed against each other through their boxers, holding himself up on his elbows above Dean's face. He kissed Dean once, fast and dirty with lots of tongue, then bent down to the side of his head.

"You should really look in a mirror more often, then," he rumbled directly into Dean's ear, "because you may be the single most beautiful man I have ever seen."

Dean, who had been occupied sliding his hands into Castiel's boxers to get a better hold on his ass, made a choked whimpering sound. Suddenly one of Dean's hands was on Castiel's shoulder and he found himself being flipped onto his back.

As soon as Dean was on top of him they were kissing again. Dean's hands were tangled in Castiel's hair, Castiel's hands mapping out the muscles shifting across Dean's back, their legs slotted together just right so that they could move against each other. They stayed like that for several minutes, moaning and gasping into each other's mouths as their bodies slid together.

Suddenly, Dean pulled away. Castiel was momentarily disappointed at the loss of the toned, hard body against his, but when Dean started pulling his boxers off he forgot all disappointment. Once they were off, he bent his knees a bit so that Dean could kneel between them. 

Before he could even wonder what exactly was about to happen, Dean's mouth was around him, sucking and licking and generally causing Castiel's eyes to roll back in his head.

A string of what was probably nonsense fell from Castiel's mouth as he rested a hand on Dean's head. He didn't push or pull, just ran his fingers through soft hair and savored the movement as Dean bobbed up and down on him. He felt a hand rubbing and squeezing his balls lightly, and his shoulders arched off the bed as he tried not to thrust into Dean's mouth. He let himself get lost in the hot, wet sensations, moaning Dean's name.

Soon Dean was pulling off, though he kept a hand working furiously over the spit-slicked cock. He moved down and sucked on Castiel's balls, licked all around them.

"God, you taste so fucking good," Dean moaned as he came back up to lick up the precome that was now dripping freely. "Don't even know the last time I wanted someone's dick inside me this badly."

Castiel let out a strangled noise at this suggestion. Every position he'd imagined fucking Dean in over the course of the evening (well, let's be honest, _day_ ) flashed through his mind. He quickly decided he wasn't picky, as long as his dick wound up inside Dean's ass as soon as possible.

He tugged Dean up to kiss him again. When he did, he realized that at some point Dean had divested himself of his boxers as well, and Castiel reached down to wrap a hand around his surprisingly thick cock. He was glad that Dean had immediately wanted to bottom, because it was going to take a lot of prep for him to get filled up with _that_ , and he just did not have the patience right now. _Maybe next time_ , he thought, because there was _so_ going to be a next time.

"Shit, I, uh," Dean panted into Castiel's mouth, "I don't have anything."

"In my suitcase," Castiel muttered, and wiggled out from under Dean. He was breathing hard as he jerked his suitcase open on the chair a few feet away, hoping to god he hadn't hidden his condoms and lube too well.

Luckily, it only took him a moment to unearth them, and when he held them up Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Well aren't you prepared," Dean said with a smirk. "You a boy scout, or you just always find someone to bang at these things?" Dean's tone was casual, smirk firmly in place, but as Castiel approached the bed he could see something in Dean's eyes that told a slightly different story.

Castiel got back on the bed, straddling Dean again. He bent down to plant light kisses down the side of Dean's throat.

"This isn't the first time I've picked up someone in a bar while I'm out of town for work," he admitted between kisses. Then he moved up so he could look Dean in the eye, because this was important. "But this is the first time I've met you."

Dean wove a hand into his hair and pulled him down into a long, slow, searing kiss. 

They started to move against each other again, but Dean soon grabbed Castiel's hips, stilling him, and pulled away from the kiss.

"Fuck me, Cas," he breathed, "Want you inside me so bad."

Castiel nodded, quite sure that if he tried to verbalize a reply it would not come out in actual words.

Then he sat up, kneeling between Dean's legs as Dean had done not very long ago. He pushed Dean's knees up for better access, then grabbed the lube and started to prep Dean, forcing himself to go slowly. Dean was clearly enjoying the process, starting to fuck himself on Castiel's fingers after the second one went in.

"Um—oh fuck yes, right there, _fuck, nngh_ —but Cas—I should, um, I should probably tell you—"

Castiel didn't stop moving his hand entirely, but his movements became smaller and slower, steering clear of Dean's prostate.

"What should you tell me, Dean?"

Dean gasped, got his breath back, and tried again. "Not a big deal, I just—I haven't done this in a while. Like, years. So, uh. You might need to be a little extra careful down there."

He knew Dean wouldn't want to say it in so many words when they were in the middle of this, but Castiel could put two and two together to figure out that Dean hadn't had sex with a man—or, at least, hadn't bottomed—since before he got married. Given that he'd been married for nearly six years (one of the only other facts about it that he'd divulged that night), and who knew how long he and Lisa had dated before that… He might as well be a virgin, for as ready as his ass was for this.

"Don't worry, Dean," Castiel breathed, sliding his fingers further in, "I won't hurt you." As he pulled his fingers back out, he slid them across the sensitive spot and watched Dean buck and moan for him.

Castiel spent a few more minutes than he might usually on prep, making sure that Dean was slick and open and begging for it before he dared pull his fingers out. He slid the condom on, then added more lube to it to be on the safe side.

He braced himself over Dean with one hand by Dean's head, so that he could watch Dean's face as he slowly pushed in. He took his cues from that, pausing at any flinch. But mostly, he saw unbridled desire in Dean's eyes, aimed squarely at him, and it took his breath away.

"Shit," Dean breathed when he was fully inside, "That's so good. You feel so fucking good."

Castiel bent down to kiss and lick along Dean's jawline as he slowly started to move, and he felt Dean's legs tighten around his waist.

"I've been thinking about this all day, too," Castiel murmured into Dean's ear as he gradually thrust harder and faster. "How hot and tight you'd be for me. But _fuck_ , you feel so much better than I could imagine, Dean. You look so much…" His voice trailed off into a moan for a few seconds. "So much hotter wrapped around me."

Castiel grabbed Dean's ass and adjusted the angle, experimenting until one thrust made Dean cry out and grab the sheets. Perfect.

Now that he'd found just the right spot, he started fucking Dean harder and faster. He felt a little bad for whoever was in the hotel room next to them, because Dean was starting to get _loud_ —but not bad enough to stop, because those were possibly the hottest sounds he'd heard in his life.

"Gonna make me come, Cas," Dean moaned. His hands threaded through Castiel's hair and pulled him down so their noses were nearly touching. "God, I'm gonna come so hard."

Castiel groaned and struggled to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of Dean's face. "Yes, fuck, I want to see you come, Dean. I want to watch you, want to feel you around me when you come."

He'd barely gotten the words out before the hand in his hair tightened and Dean threw his head back, crying out. He could feel hot spurts hit his stomach, feel Dean clench around him as his movements became more erratic, and as he realized that Dean was coming without a hand on him, it tipped him over the edge, too.

He let out a long moan as the orgasm coursed through him, felt it being pulled out by Dean's tight ass around him. Then Dean lowered his head, and the eye contact as they both rode out their orgasms seemed to heighten everything. Whatever had been sparking the air between them all night flared bright, their foreheads pressing together as they clung to each other.

They kissed their way through the aftershocks and the gentle ride back down from their high. Once he came back to himself, Castiel couldn't help feeling a little shaken as he threw away the condom and got them cleaned up. He'd already known that he liked Dean, a lot. He'd known that he wanted to see Dean again. But even those simple facts hadn't prepared him for the connection he'd felt during sex. Now, he was startled by what he'd felt—but even more than that, scared that he'd been the only one to feel it.

He slipped back into the bed with Dean, who seemed to be taking a bit longer to get his head down from the clouds. But as soon as Castiel was lying down, Dean rolled toward him, pulling him close.

"God damn, Cas, that was…" Castiel kissed him before he could find adequate words.

"Yes, it was."

Dean gave him a lazy smile, running a hand through Castiel's hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he leaned in, nosing and kissing at Castiel's throat.

"Castiel—" he began, but then froze. He pulled back and looked at Castiel, eyebrows furrowed. But before Castiel could ask him what was wrong, he burst out laughing and buried his head back into Castiel's neck.

"Um…" Castiel had absolutely no idea what was going on.

Dean pulled back just enough to look into Castiel's eyes, still grinning.

"I don't know your god damn last name!" He said it like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard, and Castiel giggled too, because it _was_. And the fact that it was, and that Dean thought it was, filled him with relief. He'd certainly slept with men whose last name he didn't know before (and probably a couple who gave him false first names). It hadn't been absurd then. Who needed a last name?

But he knew that Dean had a brother named Sam and drove a '67 Impala that he was a little too enamored with and worked in his Uncle Bobby's garage even though Bobby wasn't really his uncle but more like the father his father was too broken to be. He knew that Kurt Vonnegut was Dean's favorite author and he'd read every book and story ever written by Stephen King or Dean Koontz but also had a soft spot for gothic horror and had read _Dracula_ a few too many times. He knew that when he looked into Dean's eyes while coming harder than he had in years it felt too big and too right and like something he thought maybe he could someday decide he never wanted to stop doing.

But Dean was right. Castiel didn't know his last name. And that was kind of hilarious.

Castiel struggled to put on a straight face, or at least not laugh for ten seconds, as he stuck out his hand awkwardly between them. "Castiel Novak."

Dean shook his hand, as well as he could while they were both lying down only a foot apart. "Dean Winchester. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"So what were you about to say, Mr. Winchester, before you realized this?"

Dean opened his mouth, then then squinted up at the ceiling as though it might have the answer written on it. "I don't even remember, something about how great the sex was," he said, shrugging, and dissolved into laughter again.

Castiel reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, then pulled Dean into another lazy kiss that finally calmed down the last of his giggles. Then he rolled over and pressed back against Dean, who wrapped himself around Castiel with no hesitation and pressed a few light kisses into the back of his neck.

"Good night, Castiel Novak," he said softly into Castiel's hair.

"Good night, Dean Winchester."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lived in both Kansas City and Chicago, but I have never attended the Printer's Row Lit Fest. In fact, when I was searching for a place for them to meet and found it, I was pissed that I lived in Chicago for five years and hadn't heard of it! I am also not a librarian and not very familiar with the administrative structure of libraries, etc. If you find any glaring inaccuracies regarding any of this, feel free to drop me an ask on Tumblr.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Winter_of_our_Discontent](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_of_our_Discontent/pseuds/Winter_of_our_Discontent) for sanity-checking a chunk of this chapter for me.

Often, when Castiel woke up in a strange bed with a strange person, it took him a minute to work out how he got there and who he's with. This time, he was pulled into consciousness slowly, eyes still closed. And as soon as he was close enough to the surface to register that there was a body tangled with his, his brain immediately supplied him with an image of bright green eyes and a smile to light up a city block. Before he even opened his eyes, he was grinning and pressing himself in toward the warmth of Dean Winchester.

The movement caused Dean to stir, but when Castiel finally did open his eyes Dean appeared not to have woken up. Castiel knew he should make sure he wasn't running late, as he _did_ in fact have to be somewhere at some point, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from his bedmate for several minutes. He blamed Dean's freckles, which were light enough to disappear into his tanned skin from a distance but absolutely fascinating close up. 

Eventually, though, he decided that his staring _may_ be toeing the line between sweet and creepy, and looked around for a clock. Unfortunately, there was not one in his line of sight, which meant he was going to have to actually _move_ to find out what time it was. He sighed heavily, muttering internally about the sacrifices he made for his job.

He saw his phone within reach on the nightstand, between their empty wine… cups. He extracted one arm from between Dean's waist and arm and reached over, only having to scoot a tiny bit away to reach it. As he grabbed it, Dean snuffled and pulled him tighter, which he found hopelessly endearing. He pressed the button on the phone and learned that it was just before 8:30.

Castiel groaned, and that was what finally woke up Dean.

"Mmmmm, Cas," he mumbled into Castiel's shoulder. Castiel smiled and dropped his phone, then kissed Dean's head. Dean who apparently was also able to remember who he was waking up next to before opening his eyes.

He rolled back toward Dean so that they were facing each other, noses inches apart.

"Hello, Dean," he said as Dean's eyes fluttered open.

"Damn," Dean said, a small smile playing on his lips, "your eyes really are that blue. Thought that part musta been a dream."

Castiel kissed him to mask the blush that he knew was blooming across his face.

"Sadly," Castiel said, reaching back for his phone where he'd dropped it on the bed, "it is now… 8:29, and I'm supposed to cover a 10am panel. And I want to get there a good twenty to thirty minutes early to get a decent seat. So I can't stay in bed for much longer."

"Boo. You whore."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Mean Girls? Really? Doesn't seem your style."

"Mmmmff." Dean burrowed his head back into Castiel's arm. Castiel was pretty sure that he then said "Only after really amazing sex leaves my brain half-functioning," but it was muffled so he may have misheard.

"Five more minutes," Castiel said, wrapping his arm back around Dean and pulling him close, "and then we go shower. Almost as good as bed."

The shower was, in fact, quite good, especially the part where Castiel fucked Dean from behind against the white tile wall.

By a quarter after nine, they were both dressed, and Dean was sitting on the foot of the bed, pulling his boots on while Castiel checked his email.

"So, uh, look," Dean said, keeping his eyes on the laces he was tying, "if you just want this to be a one-night thing, that's totally cool, and I'll get out of your hair right now, no hard feelings or anything. Just say the word."

Castiel's head jerked up from his laptop screen, dismayed but unsure if he should argue. Dean continued before he could think of anything to say.

"But, uh. If you wanted, I'd, um. I'd really like to hang out with you more today. But seriously, don't feel obligated. I know you got shit to do for work—" Dean was cut off by Castiel straddling him and locking their mouths together, fingers twisted in the short strands of his hair.

"So…" Dean panted after they finally pulled apart. "Was that a 'get the hell out of my hotel room' kiss or what?"Castiel climbed out of his lap, shoving him back onto the bed.

"I think it was a 'let me check my schedule and I'll try to pencil you in' kiss," Castiel tossed over his shoulder as he put his laptop away in its bag. "My people will call your people, that kind of thing," 

"So what, you got a blank space, baby? You gonna write my name?" Dean's mouth quirked up at him from where he was still sprawled on the bed.

"You really do have a Taylor Swift thing, don't you?"

"I never shoulda told you that. Hm. I should probably stop by Charlie's room and change into a clean shirt, huh?" Dean asked as he finally sat back up.

"You're staying with Charlie?"

"Well, crashing with Charlie. Don't tell her publisher, they're paying for the room." Dean sauntered over and slid his arms around Castiel's waist from behind, easy as anything, the hesitancy of a few minutes ago forgotten. "So what _is_ your schedule today, anyhow?"

Castiel sighed and pulled out the festival schedule where he'd circled the things he needed to be at. "This one at ten, and then the big thing is John Green speaking this afternoon at 1:30. I'm liveblogging that one, too."

"Who's John Green? Is he local, too?" Dean peered down at the schedule over Castiel's shoulder. Castiel just stared at him.

"You really don't read YA, do you?"

Dean shrugged. "I read Harry Potter and The Hunger Games. Would you know who this guy was if you worked in the adult section instead of the teen section?"

Castiel snorted. "Yes. He's a bit of a phenomenon. His last novel sold over a million copies and was made into a blockbuster movie."

"Yeah, well, _you_ sold over a million copies. And were made into a… Look, I didn't really think this insult through, all right?"

Castiel shook his head and turned in Dean's arms. "You weren't kidding when you said the sex interfered with your brain function. I guess the shower was a bit too much."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, then pulled back and took his hand. "You ready to go? We can talk schedules while we head down to the seventh floor so I can get a shirt."

"Unfortunately, the John Green thing requires a ticket, and I'm guessing you don't have one," Castiel said as they walked toward the elevator. "So you're definitely on your own then. The one at ten doesn't, so you could come if you wanted, but I doubt it would interest you. Other than that, though, I'm all yours."

"Awesome," Dean said as they stepped onto the elevator. "There was a horror thing I wanted to go to at ten, so we can meet up after that? Figure out what else to do then?"

"Sounds good." Castiel raised an eyebrow. "It looks like I'm going to need your phone number, Dean."

"It does, doesn't it?" One side of Dean's mouth quirked up, and he handed Castiel his phone as they stepped out into the hallway.

A minute or two later they stopped in front of a door, and Dean rapped on it a few times. "Hey, Charlie, I'm comin' in, in case you're naked or something. Or, y'know, still comin' in if you're not."

He went to unlock the door, but someone pulled it open before he got the key in the lock. Castiel could hear a chirpy voice inside the room.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in! And don't think I didn't see what you've brought with you through the peephole, Mr. Winchester." Castiel saw red hair bounce up over Dean's shoulder, but couldn't see much more of the owner. "Do come in, Dreamy Guy Dean Saw At My Panel And Apparently Got Lucky With!"

Dean looked back over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Castiel, then jerked his head to indicate that he might as well come in.

As Castiel hesitantly followed Dean into the room, he could hear Charlie moving away from them as she chattered.

"Sorry, Dreamy Guy—can I call you Dreamy Guy? The whole thing's such a mouthful. Anyhow, sorry I'm kind of half naked, but don't worry, I'm a lesbian."

As Dean moved to one side, Castiel could see that she was, in fact, flitting around the room with no shirt (but thankfully a bra) on. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head in confusion.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about _my_ orientation in this situation?"

"Oh, probably." She sounded very unconcerned. "Are you gay?"

"Yes."

"Score!" She raised a fist victoriously as she pulled out a tube of mascara. "This room is 100% certified gay!"

"I'm not gay," Dean chuckled as he dug a shirt out of his bag.

"Please, Dean, you are _totally_ gay enough for this party."

"I can attest to that," Castiel supplied, trying not to leer _too_ obviously as Dean removed his t-shirt.

"So, Mr. _Definitely_ Got Lucky With—"

"Sorry, I'm an ass." Dean waved a hand between them as he pulled on a faded Led Zeppelin shirt. "Charlie, Castiel Novak. Castiel, Charlie Bradbury."

"Excellent. So, Castiel." Charlie was finally pulling on her own shirt, which had a hobbit hole on the front. "I saw you tippity-tapping away on your laptop at my panel. What was that all about?"

"I work for the Kansas City Public Library. I was liveblogging it for our website."

"Oh yeah! Cool!" Now Charlie was gathering items strewn around the room into her messenger bag. Castiel was pretty sure she hadn't stopped moving since he came into the room. "Gilda—my publicist—she told me about that." _Then_ Charlie stopped. And turned toward him, eyebrows raised. "Wait. You live in Kansas City?"

Castiel nodded. Charlie's eyebrows traveled impossibly higher as she turned them on Dean, who had started brushing his teeth.

Dean looked confused for a second, then spit his toothpaste out to gave Charlie a very unimpressed glare.

"Yes, I knew that, and yes, he knows I live there, too. What, you think I'd tell him I live in Phoenix or something so it's easier to ditch him? Have some faith, Charles."

"Don't call me that," Charlie said automatically, like she said it almost daily and hardly meant it anymore. She slung her messenger bag over her head and smiled at the two of them. "Let's get our book geek on, bitches!"

While they waited for the elevator, Dean slid his arm around Castiel's waist, bending down to kiss him just below the ear. As he pulled back, Castiel turned his head and caught Dean's mouth for a short, chaste kiss.

"Oh, god," Charlie moaned as she turned to watch them, "you two are gonna be totally gross, aren't you? Have some pity on the single girl here."

"I thought you and Gilda were a thing?" Dean asked as they stepped into the elevator. He took his hand off Castiel's waist and laced their fingers together instead. Castiel was trying very hard not to stare at Dean more than necessary. It felt so necessary, though.

"Eh." Charlie shrugged as she pushed the lobby button. "I mean, we hooked up a couple times, and she's great and all, but it just wasn't clicking, y'know? We talked about it last week and decided we should just keep it professional."

As they walked through the hotel lobby, Castiel barely noticed when Dean pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. He pretended not to notice a minute later, when Charlie pulled out her phone and read a text, then shot Dean an indecipherable look. Whatever it was, it was obviously none of his business. Two people who had been friends for fifteen years were not going to want to discuss absolutely everything in front of some guy they'd just met.

They chattered for a few minutes about where they were all headed, and at some point Castiel mentioned the liveblogging for the John Green talk later.

"I'll be at that, too!" Charlie chirped. "Oh, ooh ooh, can I help? Like, special guest liveblogger? That would be so much fun!"

Castiel laughed. It really wasn't a terribly exciting process, but it might be more fun with some help. "I have a feeling my superiors would be very much okay with that, as would I."

Charlie clapped her hands as they crossed a large street. "Send me the URL and I'll tweet about it!"

"Um…" Castiel looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "How many Twitter followers do you have?"

"'Bout a hundred K," she said, shrugging.

He snorted. "I believe that's about ten times as many as the main library account. I hope our poor servers can handle the extra traffic."

Soon they were in the middle of the crowd at the Lit Fest and going their separate ways. Charlie split off first.

"We'll meet up with you for lunch?" Dean asked.

"We?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked at them.

"Well, you and I can ditch this loser if you'd rather," Castiel said, nodding toward Dean.

She turned to Dean with a cute wrinkle in her nose. "I like him!"

"I hate you both," Dean announced, then waved as Charlie disappeared.

Once she was gone, Castiel pulled Dean in by his belt loops for a kiss.

"I'll text you when this panel's over," he murmured against Dean's mouth.

Dean scoffed as he squeezed Castiel's waist. "Yeah, right, you're just gonna run off with my lesbian best friend and I'll never hear from either of you again."

"We'll invite you to the wedding and you can tell everyone how you introduced us and sparked the great queerplatonic love story of the century."

"Shit, is that a thing?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe I should be worried after all."

"Maybe you should be," Castiel said as he went in for another kiss. 

As he walked into the building the panel was in, his heart was fluttering and he couldn't get the grin off his face. Twelve hours ago, he'd been hoping to get laid. Now he was pretty hopelessly infatuated, a place he had not been in a while—he'd almost forgotten how much fun it could be.

After the panel, he and Dean met up in the middle of the vendor row. He made a token attempt to rebuff Dean's suggestion that the first thing they should do was "go find somewhere to make out," before pulling them into a back hallway of the building he'd just been in for the panel. After about ten minutes, though, he pointed out that they were going to have to either cool off, head back to the hotel, or risk getting arrested for indecent exposure. Dean mentioned he wouldn't mind seeing more of Chicago, so Castiel declared that they were going to walk down to Millennium Park to see The Bean, because That Is What One Does When One Is In Chicago. He then refused to tell Dean what The Bean was.

"It's cool-looking," Dean said as they stood underneath it, "but who the fuck wakes up one morning and says, 'I know what this city needs, it needs an enormous 3D mirror blob'?"

Castiel looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Shuttlecocks, Dean."

"I didn't say it was the stupidest thing anyone's ever thought their city needed. Not by a long shot. Just a weird thing to pick."

That didn't stop him from taking a picture of them kissing in front of it.

After that, they sat down under a tree in the park, where Castiel lay with his head in Dean's lap while they both pulled up Yelp on their phones to figure out where to have Charlie meet them for lunch. It took some negotiation.

"So it's a ball of vegetables. Not really sellin' it, Cas."

Castiel squinted up at him. "I can't tell if you're joking or not. Do you know what a chickpea _is_?"

Dean stuck out his tongue and searched for photos of chickpeas on his phone.

"Ooh, so they're beans. A ball of beans, that's way better."

"They're fried and there's lots of spices and the sauce is very good. It doesn't taste like beans, I promise."

"But you admit that there's no meat."

"They sell things with chicken and lamb, too. You do not have to eat the 'balls of beans' if you are truly incapable of it."

"Chicken is almost vegetables."

"You're very tall for a six-year-old."

"I'm just saying, I bet there are burgers around here, too."

Castiel sighed. "If we go to the falafel place, and you actually try a bite of my falafel, I'll have sex with you again tonight."

"You were gonna do that anyhow."

"Do you really want to risk it?"

They met Charlie at the falafel place.

"Oh my god, did you just take a bite of falafel?" Charlie asked around her own bite, gaping. "What the fuck did you do to him, Castiel?"

"He threatened to withhold sex." Charlie made a disgusted face and blocked her sight of his mouth with her hand; it seemed Dean had not entirely mastered the art of talking with food in his mouth without giving everyone a show. "Which I thought wasn't allowed 'til you've been dating for, like, at least a year or something."

"I threatened no such thing. I merely reminded him that, seeing as how we have known each other for less than a day, I am by no means a sure thing, and so it would be in his best interest to keep me happy." Castiel took a very smug bite of his wrap as Charlie moved her hand from in front of Dean's mouth for a high five.

Dean had been about to take another bite of his shawarma, but put it down. "Wait, wait, why is this about _me_ keeping _you_ happy? Why didn't you feel the need to feed me burgers to make sure _I'll_ have sex with _you_?"

Castiel licked a bit of sauce off of his finger (noticing that Dean watched this movement closely and refraining from simply saying _that's why_ ) and turned to face Dean.

"a) I knew you'd actually like the food if you gave it a chance and b)" He gave Dean a small smile full of promises. "I'll make you plenty happy later."

Dean did a very bad job of pretending not to be affected by the smile as he grumbled, "Well, you're lucky I don't hate the food."

"Shut up, doofus." Charlie kicked him under the table. "Everyone likes falafel and/or shawarma. The _Avengers_ like shawarma. There was zero chance you wouldn't like this."

"Don't take his side!"

"I like him better than you!"

Castiel sat back and watched them bicker like only old friends can. He felt ridiculously lucky that not only had he met a gorgeous, funny, amazing guy this weekend, but had also been immediately accepted by that guy's best friend. He knew he wanted to see Dean again when they got back to Kansas City, and now, sitting here hanging out with the two of them like he did it every weekend, he was starting to feel like maybe this could be something that had a real future.

After lunch, he and Charlie headed out to get good seats for the John Green event while Dean found another panel that interested him.

Once they were settled, Castiel pulled out his laptop and started to get the liveblogging set up. He had no idea how to make a second account for Charlie, since he had never done a joint liveblog before, but luckily she had it set up in minutes. While they got it working, she chattered about her computer science degree and her freelance programming work, and then they talked about her upcoming signing and other events she might want to do at the library. She'd held a fiction-writing workshop for teens at a library in Lawrence, and was excited to do the same sort of thing at other libraries in the area. When Castiel mentioned that he ran an LGBTQ support group, she practically _insisted_ that she come speak at it some time.

Castiel realized that it was starting to look like he'd be working with Charlie quite a bit over the next few months, and hoped that if things blew up with Dean that wouldn't be too awkward. She didn't seem the type to let a friend's breakup interfere with professional relationships, but it could be hard to tell. 

What he really wanted, of course, was for things with Dean to be wonderful and amazing and to be able to count Charlie as a friend and not just an author whose ties to the library he'd like to strengthen. He was cautiously optimistic on this front.

The joint liveblog with the "special guest star" was a lot of fun. They treated it a little bit like a private chat room, joking and teasing each other, but were sure to stay focused on what Green was saying and doing. Castiel could see that it was getting many times more hits than the previous session, and the comment stream over to the side was much more crowded. Unfortunately, that meant that they attracted a few trolls, so Castiel had to figure out how to use the blocking feature he'd never had to touch before.

As he put his laptop away afterward, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Um, before we meet back up with Dean, can I talk to you just for a minute?" Charlie looked sheepish but determined.

"Of course," Castiel said. He could tell this was something personal, not work-related. "If this is a shovel talk, I assure you my intentions are entirely pure."

Charlie laughed. "No, that's not what I was thinking, although _yes_ , I will break your knees." Her smile faltered. "Look, don't tell Dean I said anything about this, okay? Like, seriously, it's totally not my place, but I can't not say anything."

Castiel nodded, worried.

"He really likes you, Castiel. Like, a lot. And you guys seem super happy together, I'm sure nobody would even guess that you just met yesterday. You fit, and it's great, and I'm totally rooting for you. You just… Okay, I apologize in advance that this is going to be really, really vague. But there just. There are some things it is _really_ not my place to talk to you about, so I _have_ to be vague."

She paused for a moment, biting her lip and seeming to settle exactly what to say in her mind. Castiel waited patiently. When she spoke again, she looked him right in the eye and spoke slowly, choosing her words very carefully.

"Everything is awesome here, in Chicago, in the little bubble of this cool event, right? But once you guys get back to Kansas City and reality, it just… it might be hard for Dean to get serious with you for a while. And I'm just asking you to be patient with him. If he seems flaky, or it seems like he's hiding things from you. Hell, I'll be honest, he might even lie to you! But I promise you he will get his shit together eventually, because you two are clearly worth it and I'm pretty sure he knows that. I'm just asking you, please, if it seems like he's holding back, just give him some time, okay?"

Castiel frowned, having no idea what to make of that speech. "You're right, that was… very vague."

"I know, I'm sorry!" She grabbed her hair in frustration. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, I don't even know, I just know that I don't want you thinking he's not interested! Because I haven't seen him like this with someone since—please tell me he told you about Lisa."

Castiel nodded. Of course he had. How could they possibly have spent so much time together without Dean ever mentioning that he was a widower?

"Good, yes. He hasn't exactly dated a ton since she died, but I have not seen him so into _anybody_ since Lisa. Maybe nobody before her, either." She bit her lip. "Just… don't think he's not into you if he wants to take things slower than you do, or has things he can't tell you about. He just might need a little time. Okay, I'm babbling now and repeating myself and I'm sorry, Castiel, I probably shouldn't have opened my mouth."

He nodded to himself, processing this. "You're concerned for your friend," he said sincerely, "and that's fine. I honestly don't really understand what you're talking about right now, but I assume I might understand later. You obviously know him far better than I do. I can tell you that I am interested in pursuing a relationship with Dean, and I will try to keep this in mind if there are… bumps in the road, so to speak."

Charlie gave him a relieved smile, then they stood to file out of their row of seats.

"Oh, and by the way," he said as they reached the aisle. She turned toward him, eyebrows raised. "Thank you for approving of me enough to tell me any of this."

Charlie wrapped her hands around his elbow, pulling him close as they headed toward the exit with a devilish grin on her face. "Dude, in case you hadn't noticed? If he dumps you, I'm _so_ keeping you. I totally needed a sarcastic gay librarian for my collection."

Castiel did not ask what exactly she was collecting. He tried to put her warnings out of his mind—whatever the problem was, he assumed that Dean would talk to him about it when he was comfortable with it, assuming they kept dating long enough.

The three of them spent some time going around to the vendors. They pawed through piles of discount books, Charlie bought some comic book-themed jewelry, and Castiel stole as many kisses as he could get away with.

There was a 3pm panel that Dean wanted to go to, and Castiel thought it looked interesting enough to tag along. Charlie had a different one she wanted to see, so Castiel and Dean were soon alone again.

"Um," Castiel felt suddenly and inexplicably shy. They'd already talked about having sex again, so inquiring about evening plans shouldn't be that hard, but he couldn't help worrying that he was assuming too much. "Do you have any plans for dinner? Or, actually, the rest of the evening?"

Dean shrugged and gave him a teasing smile. "Thought I'd go back to that bar, pick up another hot guy. Worked really well last night."

Castiel laughed, less nervous now. "Would you like to go on an actual date?"

"That would be awesome." Dean leaned in and they kissed, long and slow. "Where do you want to go?"

"I've got some ideas." Castiel grinned. "Leave it to me."

Castiel only paid half attention during the panel, shielding his phone from a curious Dean as he pulled up websites and maps.

Neither of them had anything in particular they wanted to see during the 4:00 slot, and after that the Lit Fest was ending.

"First off," Castiel said, sliding his arms around Dean's waist and nodding in the direction of the hotel, "let's go get your bag and move it to my room."

"You're very confident, Mr. Novak." Dean's voice was noticeably lower than usual, his fingers digging into Castiel's back. Castiel responded reflexively, his breathing becoming rougher and his eyelids drooping half-closed.

"I am indeed, Mr. Winchester," he said quietly. They were pressed together, faces drifting in, and suddenly Castiel realized that if they started kissing right now, it would get very inappropriate for public consumption very quickly. "We have dinner reservations at 6:30. We should probably leave around six. Now let's get back to the hotel so that we can use those two hours wisely."

They would have made it back to the hotel a bit more quickly if Dean hadn't lost patience after only a block and dragged Castiel into an alley to make out, but Castiel didn't complain too loudly. Dean texted Charlie to let her know he was getting his stuff, and she replied to this news with great enthusiasm. 

When they got to her room, Dean shoved his things into his backpack as quickly as possible and almost ran right into Castiel as he headed back to the door.

Finally, they made it back to Castiel's room, and as soon as the door closed Castiel had Dean against a wall, biting and sucking his neck.

"Oh, fuck," Dean gasped, "No—no marks on my neck, Cas. Here." He stripped his t-shirt right off. "Anywhere else, baby. I wear long sleeves at work, you mark me up wherever you want."

Castiel pressed against him, claiming Dean's mouth with a fierce kiss while he decided where he'd like to lay a more visible claim. He slid his hands up to rub at Dean's nipples with his thumbs, and when that made Dean moan into his mouth and grab his ass he reflexively rocked their hips together. Dean responded enthusiastically, and soon they were rutting into each other, up against the wall only a few feet from the hotel room door, fully clothed except for Dean's shirt.

Castiel realized that, as hot as it was to think that they wanted each other so badly they couldn't wait, they could really do better than coming in their pants within ten minutes of arriving.

He dropped down to his knees, and Dean's head immediately fell back, one hand going to Castiel's hair. But Castiel didn't make any move to undo Dean's pants, not yet. First, he licked and sucked and bit all over Dean's abs, which were at an absolutely perfect level of toned without becoming overly defined. He kissed his way over to a spot just above Dean's hipbone and set to work sucking a dark bruise into the skin. He held Dean in place with one hand, and slipped the other between Dean's legs, kneading his inner thighs.

He could hear Dean's whines above him, sometimes wordless and sometimes repeating things like "fuck" and "Cas" and "yes." When he was finished, he laved over his work with his tongue, turning his eyes upward to see Dean staring down at him, hungry. He reached up and started undoing Dean's fly while he was still licking and soothing the mark he'd left. The mark that would linger for days to remind Dean of him after they'd left Chicago. The reminder that Dean had _asked for,_ a thought that did things to Castiel that he was not in a position to examine more closely right then.

He pulled Dean's jeans and boxers down, freeing his very erect dick. Castiel had noticed before how thick it was, and now as he wrapped his mouth around it he couldn't help thinking _I wouldn't mind a chance to get used to this_. But at the moment he didn't have the patience to work out how best to take it all in, so he concentrated his sucking and the swirls of his tongue on the head while he worked the rest of the shaft with one hand. Dean did not seem to mind at all.

After a few minutes of listening to Dean's litany of curses explaining to him exactly how much he didn't mind this, he felt a tug on his shirt.

"Not fair, I wanna see you," Dean groaned, and Castiel had to admit he didn't mind an excuse to pull off for a second and give his jaw a break. He stripped his shirt off, and immediately Dean's hands were running over his shoulders and arms and back.

He leaned back in and spent some time licking around the head, rubbing over the slit with the tip of his tongue, then licking broad strokes down the shaft. When he did take the head back in, sucking hard, he moaned at how good it tasted and heard an answering moan from above. He couldn't help it anymore, he undid his own jeans and used one hand to stroke his own dick while he sucked Dean's.

He resumed his previous pace, and it was only another minute or two before Dean was saying—

"Fuck, Cas, I'm close. Oh, God, you're so good."

He pulled his mouth off, but kept his hand moving as he growled, "Dean, I want you to come on my face. Would you like that?"

Dean made a strangled noise and looked down at him with hooded eyes, nodding.

He kept licking the head of Dean's dick, working it all over with his tongue and lips, and it wasn't long at all before he'd brought Dean back to the edge. Dean cried out his name, he felt the shaft thicken in his hand and a hand tighten in his hair. He dragged his tongue across the tip just in time to catch the first hot spurt of come.

Castiel moaned at the taste, kept his hand moving and squeezing out wave after wave onto his lips and tongue and cheeks as Dean pulled on his hair and stared, cursing.

"Holy _shit_ , that was fucking hot," Dean panted, "God, Cas, look at you, fuckin' look at that."

Castiel was stroking himself faster now, the feel of Dean's come all over him pushing him forward.

Suddenly, Dean dropped down to his knees in front of him. Dean pulled his hand away from his dick, and Castiel let out a whimper at the loss of contact. But Dean took Cas's face in one hand, running his thumb through the come dripping down his cheek, and pulled him close with the other hand, his mouth against Castiel's ear.

"You like that, don't you? You like having my come on you, painting you up with it? You look so fucking hot like that, you have no idea."

Dean lowered the hand from Castiel's face, now covered in come, and started to stroke him with it. Castiel moaned, his eyes falling closed as Dean's voice vibrated through his body.

"You feel that? You feel it all over you? Got it on your face, now it's on your dick. You're fucking covered in me. Maybe we should go eat like this, let everyone see you. See how much you like to fuck into a puddle of my come. How fucking filthy you are, Cas. How _I_ did that to you, everyone can see that I shot my load all over you—"

Castiel let out a cry as the orgasm pushed its way out. He could feel his come mixing with Dean's, making an even bigger mess, getting all over Dean's hand and both of their stomachs, everywhere, and the thought was like a jolt, spiking the pleasure even higher.

As he started to come down, he could feel Dean pressing kisses down his throat, then felt Dean's forehead come to rest on his shoulder. They both stopped for a minute to catch their breath, leaning into each other's arms.

"You, Dean Winchester," he said once he could talk, "have a filthy fucking mouth."

"Says the guy who couldn't just swallow like a normal person."

Castiel was too hazy from the orgasm to keep a straight face, he had to laugh at that. "Complaints?"

Dean chuckled as well. "Christ, no."

"I think I might need a quick shower," Castiel said, still laughing.

Dean pulled back a little, then he lifted his hand, which was now completely covered in both their come, and started wiping it off on Cas's chest as he giggled.

"No shit, man, you're a mess. Disgusting, look at that."

Castiel grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him in tight, pressing their torsos together as they kissed in order to spread as much of the mess onto Dean as possible. The kissing was somewhat hampered by the increasingly hysterical laughing, so Castiel eventually settled for rubbing the messier parts of his face against Dean's.

Castiel wasn't even sure what Dean tried to do next—possibly stand up, as his pants were still around his ankles and, oh shit, they both still had their fucking _shoes on_ —but whatever it was, it caused him to topple onto the floor. By then they were both red-faced from laughing, and Dean rolled onto his back as he tried to catch his breath.

"What the fuck, man," he gasped, "everything was sexy like five minutes ago. What did you do, Cas?"

"Me?" Castiel tried to reply, but he was now laughing too hard to talk. He finally lowered himself onto the floor next to Dean, trying hard not to get any more come on the carpet than absolutely necessary.

They lay there like that, side-by-side, semen smeared all over, their pants halfway off but shoes all the way on, for several minutes. Every time one would stop laughing long enough to start to breathe, the other would start in and they'd lose it again.

At some point, as their laughter finally started to subside into giggles, Castiel realized that their hands were clasped on the floor between them. He ran his thumb over Dean's hand, then turned his head to look at Dean. Dean's eyes were closed, his face still pointed toward the ceiling, his chest jerking with the remains of a laugh. Castiel could see a track where a tear had slid down from the corner of his eye at some point.

He felt a knot of affection tighten in his chest, and in that moment, he knew.

As he watched Dean's head turn and eyes open to look at him, as Dean's body rolled toward him and he slid his hand into Dean's hair and they kissed slow and deep and without laughing at all, he knew without a doubt that this was how it started. That he was falling in love. He was falling in love with this beautiful, sexy, funny, intelligent, _incredible_ man he'd met just last night, and it was going to happen fast and hard and good _god_ , if Dean wasn't there to catch him then it was going to make an awful mess. He knew that from experience.

But as Dean sat up and started untying both their shoes, Castiel looked at him and thought, _you. You are definitely worth the risk._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shuttlecocks, Dean." - The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City has giant shuttlecocks in its yard. As in, enormous badminton birdies. But the installation is called "Shuttlecocks." And when it went in in 1994 it was like, a _huge_ deal. All over the news. Of course, it was instantly a giant joke and remains one to this day, because _shuttlecocks_.
> 
> I will be at 221B Con this weekend, say hi if you see me! I have brown hair with blue bangs and black wire-rim glasses.
> 
> Chapter 3 is mostly written, since originally it was going to be the second half of this chapter, so hopefully it will go up early next week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than expected. Lucky for you, though, it's also a much longer chapter than expected (god, originally this was going to be part of chapter two, I'm so glad I split them up)! For some reason the last half of it went very, _very_ slowly. I honestly don't think the next chapter will take nearly as long, unless they decide to have kinkier sex than I was planning. _Again_.

They eventually made it into the shower. On the way, Dean snagged a bottle of body wash from his bag, and once they were under the spray he spent longer than necessary gently cleaning the mess from Castiel's face and chest. When Castiel went to do the same, he reached past Dean's bottle for his own soap. He didn't want to ascribe too much meaning to the string of small possessive gestures they'd been trading since getting back to the hotel, so he decided that it just felt right and to leave it at that.

Once they were clean, they collapsed onto the bed, tangling themselves together. They spent the next forty-five minutes exchanging lazy kisses and touches, occasionally talking about nonsense.

While he lay there running his hands over Dean's back, Castiel thought about what Charlie had said, about bubbles and reality. He had to keep in mind that this blissful little self-contained life was only a two-day fantasy. It was a lovely way to meet, a chance to immerse themselves in each other and maybe jump start whatever they might become. But it would end the next day, and he had no way of knowing whether he and Dean would fit into each others' lives when they got home. He was reasonably confident that whatever they'd developed here was good enough for them both to at least make an attempt at more, but how long would that last? 

Charlie could be wrong; whatever it was that she thought would hold Dean back at first might hold him back permanently. But she could also be wrong in that it wouldn't be an issue at all. But then, Dean commuting back and forth to Lawrence for work and school might get in the way of dating, or Castiel's own evening commitments with the programming he did at the library.

Castiel finally reminded himself that making an exhaustive list of all the reasons this might not work was not a good use of his time. Because at that moment, it was perfect, and he should be enjoying that. Just because it wouldn't always be perfect was no reason to think it would disappear entirely. If Dean felt _anything_ like Castiel did, he trusted that they would both make an honest effort. If he didn't… well, why dwell on that?

Eventually, Castiel unwound himself from Dean's embrace, prodding Dean to get up as well so they could get dressed.

"So, uh, I didn't bring anything all that nice, but I think I have a button-down? Would that be okay with decent jeans?" Dean asked as he dug through his bag.

"Whatever you want," Castiel replied as he pulled on his jeans. "What you had on before is fine. We're not going anywhere the least bit fancy."

Dean gave him an odd look. "You said we had reservations."

Castiel shrugged. "I doubt they're necessary, especially on a Sunday, but I figured better safe than sorry. I'm honestly surprised that this place even takes reservations, I just happened to see the link on their website. T-shirts should be fine."

"So where to?" Dean asked as they exited the hotel.

"The red line, first off," Castiel replied, pointing them in the right direction. "We're heading to Wrigleyville. Thankfully, there's not a Cubs game tonight."

As it turned out, Dean had never ridden a subway, so this alone was a bit of an event. He was trying unsuccessfully to hide how excited he was at every point in the process: buying a ticket, going through the gate, waiting on the platform, getting on the train, staying upright while the train was moving. Castiel refrained from commenting on how adorable it was, as Dean was clearly doing his best not to come across as overly-touristy and it would probably hurt his pride to know that he was failing. But Castiel may have taken a surreptitious photo or two on his phone.

When they got to the restaurant, though, Dean made no attempt to play it cool.

"Holy shit, look at this menu. A burger with short ribs _and_ macaroni and cheese on it? This one is served on a freaking donut?" As he raised his eyes from the menu, he looked like a kid who'd just been handed a toy catalog and told to go crazy. "If you're trying to impress me with this date, it's working."

Castiel chuckled. "I told you I'd make you happy later."

"Yeah, I think you already took care of that back at the hotel." He gave Cas a playful smile and nudged his foot under the table. "But this is a very nice bonus."

They placed their orders, then Dean shook his head as their waitress walked away.

"Man, if this place had pie on the dessert menu it would be _the_ perfect restaurant. Like, all the others would have to close."

Castiel cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow as he filed this bit of information away. "Pie, hmm? A specific type, or just… pie?"

"Ah, I'm not picky." Dean leaned back in his chair. "I mean, if I had to choose a favorite I'd probably go with pecan, but dude. Anything that remotely resembles pie is good enough for me. It's the only thing I ever bake for myself."

"I was under the impression that pie crust was fairly difficult to get right," Castiel said, smiling fondly. He appeared to be uncovering a new side to Dean. "But it's the _only_ thing you know how to bake?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I didn't say it was the only thing I know how to bake. I mean, I bake cookies—uh, I bake cookies at Christmas and shit like that. But that's always if I'm doing it for other people."

"I honestly would not have pegged you as a baker at all," Castiel said, "I'm impressed, cooking and baking are not exactly my forte. I can almost handle a boxed cake mix on a good day. Gabriel got all the baking genes."

"Yeah?"

"He owns a cupcake shop down in the River Market."

Dean frowned. "Is it like, a block or so from the City Market?"

Castiel's eyebrows went up. "Yes, actually. You know it?"

"I totally got some cupcakes there once! Last year, for uh," Dean blinked for a second and licked his lips, his brow furrowing a bit. "Oh man, what was it? Uh, maybe it was Charlie's birthday or something, I dunno. They were damn good, though. I mean, y'know, for _cake_."

Castiel laughed. "If he ever puts pie on the menu, I'll be sure to alert you."

"He runs his own business, though? The way you were talking about him, it sounded like he could barely keep a chia pet alive, let alone a bakery running. That's pretty good!"

"Well, his wife Kali runs the business side. Gabriel is _only_ responsible for the baking, and even for that, Kali is the one who draws up the lists of how many of what flavors they need when, what ingredients need restocked, literally anything other than actually making the food. He is extremely lucky to have found her. I have no idea what she's getting out of the deal."

Dean snorted. "Well, if he looks anything like you, there's your answer."

"He actually looks absolutely nothing like me," Castiel said with a laugh, as a slight blush crept onto his cheeks. "I think I have a picture, hang on."

He pulled out his phone and searched for the picture he knew he had of Gabriel and Kali together. He found it just as the waitress returned with their food, and he reached over their meals to show Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, she is _way_ out of his league."

"He… does have a good sense of humor," Castiel said, but even he sounded unconvinced. The truth is, he and Anna had been trying to figure out what Kali saw in Gabriel for as long as they'd been together.

They wound up talking about their siblings for most of the meal. Castiel talked about how close he and Anna were, then how Puriel had moved to New York City for college and never looked back. He only saw her at Christmas, and rarely talked to her otherwise. Anna managed a bit better, but for twins they were not close at all.

"I suppose she saw our father as a role model," Castiel said as he played with a sweet potato fry. "She got her MBA and is working her way up the management ranks at HarperCollins. As far as I can tell, she's completely focused on her career to the exclusion of just about anything else."

Dean stole one of the fries. It wasn't like Castiel hadn't taken a few of his tater tots. "What does your dad think of her working for another publishing house?"

"That's… actually a bit complicated. On the one hand, it's not like the companies are exactly rivals." Castiel snorted. His father was CEO of a small Christian publishing company. "Heaven Sent is barely a blip on the radar of any of the big five. And honestly, I think the kind of stores his books are sold in would sooner close up shop than sell something by a _secular_ publisher, so they're barely even in competition. _However_ , there is some family rivalry involved."

Dean raised an eyebrow, and Castiel continued. "My father's brother, Marv, is a VP there. Marv founded Heaven Sent with my father, but years ago he jumped ship because he wanted to work for a bigger company. I don't understand it, but it seems he feels more powerful in a lower position at a major corporation than as the head of a smaller company. 

"There was a lot of bad blood when it happened, Marv trying to convince my father to sell the company to one of the big ones so he could climb the corporate ladder just like Marv wanted to. They haven't spoken in over a decade now. But when Purah moved out there, Marv immediately got in touch with her. He's the one who hired her and seems to be serving as her mentor now. So my father isn't exactly happy about that. Well, on the rare occasion that he happens to remember his children exist at all. It's made for some tense Christmases."

Dean let out a low whistle. "That is some grade-A family drama right there. I'm guessing you steer clear of the whole situation?"

"Indeed. Marv once contacted me to see if I had any interest in working in acquisitions for them, and I ran screaming in the other direction."

Castiel asked about Sam, and couldn't help but smile as Dean raved about how smart his little brother was, how great he did at Stanford and then Cornell Law, and how awesome (and just as smart and kicking ass in med school) his fiance Jess was. To say that Dean was proud of his brother would be a vast understatement, and it was clear to Castiel that it was more than your average brotherly pride. Dean had sacrificed his own education for Sam's, but rather than be at all bitter or resentful about that, he clearly felt that it had been completely worth it.

As they were finishing up, Dean looked at his watch.

"Oh, shoot, I gotta make a phone call," he said and stood up. "I'll be right back, okay?"

As he stepped out of the restaurant and pulled out his phone, Castiel had a direct line of sight to him through the window. Castiel, of course, had nothing better to do than stare at his eye candy date. As he watched, Dean dialed and exchanged a few words with whoever picked up. Then it looked like somebody else got on the line, as Dean's face transformed. It was the same brilliantly warm smile he'd had on his face when Castiel had first seen him on the phone at Charlie's panel. He spoke to whoever with was with great enthusiasm, and Castiel wondered who he was so excited to be talking to. Sam, maybe?

Castiel was distracted by the check coming, but just then Dean turned away from the window anyhow. Castiel now had a perfectly nice view of his ass, which wasn't nothing, but could no longer see his face.

Castiel was just signing the credit card receipt when Dean came back in.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said as he slid back into his seat, "Almost forgot it's Jo's birthday—I think I told you about her, Bobby's stepdaughter? If I forgot to call her, she'd kick my ass next time I saw her, and that's not an exaggeration. She can take me. She's had over twenty years to learn all my weak spots."

Castiel laughed as they stood to leave. Dean had described Jo as his cousin, much as Bobby was his uncle. She was a bit younger than Sam, and was the closest thing they had to a sister. It made sense that she would be one of the people who could make Dean light up like that.

"So we got any other plans tonight?" Dean asked, slipping an arm around Castiel's waist as they left the restaurant. As Castiel opened his mouth to answer, Dean leaned in and kissed the corner of his jaw, then behind his ear.

"Sorry," Dean murmured, nuzzling against him, "didn't mean to interrupt you. Just—you're really gorgeous, you know that?"

Castiel smiled and blushed, ducking his head in to brush his nose against Dean's. They had stopped in a small alcove to one side of the restaurant, out of the way of foot traffic but, Castiel was sure, still perfectly able to give passerby diabetes. He felt no remorse for this fact as he nestled further into Dean's arms.

"As I was about to say, we have tickets to a show at eight. It's just a few blocks away." He nodded in the direction of the theater.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Show? I'm not exactly into musicals."

Castiel snorted. "I'm shocked, truly"

"Hey, just makin' sure. Last time Sam said he had tickets to 'a show' while I was in town, it turned out to be Mamma Mia. He was trying to impress Jess and I got caught in the crossfire."

"I will file that information away for future reference," Castiel said solemnly, "but rest assured that it is not relevant right now."

When they got to the theater a few minutes later, Dean squinted up at the sign above the entrance.

"Improv comedy? Like _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ "

"In that it's improvised, and it's funny, yes," Castiel explained as they got in the Will Call line, "but otherwise what we're seeing tonight doesn't have much in common with the TV show."

"How different can it be?" Dean shrugged as he looked around the tiny lobby.

Castiel grinned, but didn't say anything. When this earned him a suspicious look, that only made him grin wider.

By then it was their turn at the window, and he claimed their tickets and handed one to Dean, who looked at it dubiously.

" _Improvised Shakespeare_? Seriously?" The look he was giving Castiel suggested that he'd prefer to be holding tickets to _Cats_. Cas kept grinning.

"Sounds awful, doesn't it?" He asked as they went down the stairs to the theater. "I had to be dragged here the first time I came."

"Whoa there, don't go gettin' me too excited." 

"Ye of little faith. I said the first time, didn't I? I've been back several times of my own volition." He kissed Dean lightly as they sat down. "Trust me. If you hate it, we can leave at intermission. But you won't hate it."

"Uh, in case you've forgotten, high school dropout here? I read freakin' Stephen King, not Shakespeare. Stuff that doesn't exactly require deep thought. I might not even understand this shit well enough to hate it." Dean actually looked wary. Castiel stared, incredulous.

"You may have a GED instead of a regular diploma, but you're a college sophomore now. An English major, at that. And even if you weren't, you still would not get to use the high school dropout card to try to convince me you're incapable of appreciating Shakespeare. _I'm_ not stupid either, Dean."

"I'm just sayin', Sammy's the one who got all the brains. All I got was the looks." Dean said it casually, his expression one of well-rehearsed flippancy. But for the first time, Castiel felt like he was being given a performance rather than the sincerity that had been flowing from Dean since they'd met. Dean believed what he was saying, but it bothered him far more than he was willing to show. Castiel tilted his head, regarding Dean silently for a moment.

"You've told yourself that so many times that you actually believe it, don't you?"

Dean clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably, and for a brief moment Castiel was actually worried he'd get up and walk out.

"Look, just because you met me at some book thing doesn't mean I'm as smart as you are, okay?" He crossed his arms, avoiding Castiel's eyes. "I really like you, Cas, and we've had a lot of fun, but you definitely don't know me as well as you think you do. It's not like we've actually spent that much time together—"

"You're right," Castiel said firmly, "we haven't. And I've spent even less time with Charlie. But I've spent more than enough time with her to know that she is highly intelligent, which I'm sure you'll agree with. I also know that she is not a woman who wastes her time with people who can't keep up with her intellectually. And you're her best friend."

Dean looked up at him then, startled. His eyes were stunning, blinking at Castiel with a sudden vulnerability.

Castiel crossed his own arms, challenging. "Am I wrong?"

Dean finally grinned. "Nah, see, you're not playing fair now. I can't argue without insulting Charlie."

"So stop insulting her." Castiel shrugged. "And me, for that matter. Besides," he slid his hand onto Dean's thigh, "it's not like it's actual Shakespeare. They're making it up, remember? _Just. Trust me._ "

Fifteen minutes into the show, Dean was cracking up. Castiel gazed at him affectionately, unable to get enough of the way his eyes creased when he was truly relaxed and happy. Dean caught him looking and rolled his eyes. He leaned close and Castiel shuddered as Dean's teeth scraped across the shell of his ear.

"Shut up, you big nerd." Dean's voice rumbled in his ear, and Castiel had never been so turned on by an insult. He turned his head and caught Dean's mouth in a quick kiss before they turned their attention back to the show. 

"Fine, I will never doubt you again," Dean admitted at intermission. "This is the funniest shit I've ever seen. I apologize for questioning your judgment. In my defense, I've known you for—look at that, almost _exactly_ twenty-four hours. I figured you had to be wrong about _something_ by now."

"I'm old-fashioned; I'm never wrong before the third date." Castiel paused. "Wait—so the ten hours we spent fantasizing about each other before the bar, those don't count? Because they were quite fun." He ran his hand up Dean's thigh, momentarily disappointed that they didn't have an excuse to head back to the hotel early.

"Eleven." Dean shrugged at Castiel's curious look. "Hey, that one guy in Charlie's panel was really boring, okay? How else was I supposed to keep myself busy?"

Castiel leaned in, close to Dean's ear.

"You'll have to tell me more about that later," he purred as the lights dimmed.

This discussion led to a somewhat handsier second act. The crowded theater with its tightly-packed chairs wasn't exactly an acceptable makeout venue, and the show managed to keep them just distracted enough anyhow. Nonetheless, thighs, knees, fingers, and, _occasionally_ , crotches were caressed or grabbed or fondled discreetly. A few kisses snuck their way onto jaws or ears, and once or twice the show itself inspired a dirty whisper.

By the time they were walking from the theater back to the train station, a hot tension had built back up between them.

When they sat down on the train, Castiel started to put his hand on Dean's knee, but pulled back at the last second. When Dean raised an eyebrow, Castiel gave him a wicked grin and scooted away in his seat _just_ enough that they weren't quite touching anymore. He bit his lip, glancing down at the sliver of air separating them and back up again with a heated look, silently challenging. Dean seemed to get the message. They carefully managed not to touch each other the rest of the train ride, every moment making them want it more.

By the time they were walking side-by-side (but with an inch or so between their arms) out of the station, Castiel's body was thrumming with the desire to reach out, to press himself against any convenient part of Dean. For a minute or two, they walked silently, throwing longing glances at each other's bodies. Finally, Dean cleared his throat.

"So, ah, when're you heading out tomorrow?" He almost managed to sound nonchalant. There was only a slight tightness to his voice that gave away his attempt to distract himself.

Castiel sighed. "Let's see. My flight's at ten, which means I should probably call a cab around eight. Maybe seven thirty to be on the safe side since it's rush hour."

"Huh," Dean grunted. He scratched the back of his neck, the look on his face reminiscent of the one he'd worn that morning when he was unsure whether Castiel wanted to spend more time with him or not. "Charlie's flight is around the same time. I'm giving her a ride to the airport before I start driving back, you wanna come?"

"That would be great, thank you." Castiel's heart fluttered a bit at the thought that maybe Dean wanted to squeeze every possible minute out of this weekend as much as he did—even though that was a rather presumptuous conclusion to come to. After all, it was just a ride to the airport, and it was just the polite thing for Dean to offer.

"Oh, that's right," Castiel suddenly realized, "I was going to share a cab with Hannah. I should let her know if I'm not."

"The other librarian?" Dean shrugged. "We got room, she want a ride?"

"I'll ask." They were still a block from the hotel, and it was nice to have something to take his mind off of the constant itch to touch Dean.

**To: Hannah**  
A friend is driving me to the airport in the morning. There's an extra spot, do you want to ride with us?

**To: Castiel**  
Yes, that would be nice.  
I wasn't aware you knew anyone here.

**To: Hannah**  
I can't make new friends? We'll meet you in the lobby at 7:30.

**To: Castiel**  
Let me guess, this new friend is an attractive male.

**To: Hannah**  
Two new friends, for your information, one of whom is Charlie Bradbury, and the attractiveness and gender of the other one is irrelevant. I'll see you at 7:30.

He put his phone away as they entered the hotel, and all of his attention immediately zeroed back in on Dean. Every inch of his skin was suddenly itching to be touched. They stared each other down while they waited for the elevator, neither of them making any attempt to hide what they wanted. Castiel's heart rate was picking up, and as they got into the elevator he had to struggle to keep his breath from shaking.

He let them into the room, then turned around to fasten all of the locks. As soon as he finished that, hands slid around his waist and under his shirt. Dean pulled him in tight, mouthing and nibbling at his ear.

"You're gonna fucking kill me, you know that?" Dean growled, and Castiel's nerves were on such high alert that just that made him let out a moan as his head fell back onto Dean's shoulder. "I don't know if I've ever wanted anyone as much as I want you right now."

Castiel reached back and tugged at Dean's shirt. "I need to feel you," he groaned, and started pulling his own shirt over his head. Dean's hands disappeared from his stomach for a moment, but when they returned they were accompanied by warm skin pressed all along the length of his back.

As Dean pressed kisses along the side of his neck and down onto his shoulder, Castiel took one of Dean's hands in his own, lifting it to his face so that he could carefully trace the lines running across it with the tip of his tongue. As soon as his tongue hit Dean's skin, he felt Dean pause, his mouth against the spot where Castiel's throat joined his shoulder, and let out a shaky breath.

When he finished with the lines of Dean's palm, he flattened his tongue and smoothed it down the length of a finger, earning him a whimper from somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. He bit the pad of the fingertip gently before sucking on it, and as he felt Dean's forehead come to a rest against him all Castiel could think about was how badly he wanted to taste every inch of Dean's skin.

"Fuck," Dean breathed behind him. The hand still stroking his stomach and chest pulled tighter, and he felt hardness press against his ass. He tried not to grind back into it as he released Dean's finger and smoothed his tongue back over Dean's palm, but he wasn't very successful. Dean growled into his neck and started to press in again, and suddenly Castiel was struck by the same thought he'd had earlier in the day: _we can do better than coming in our pants._

"Okay, new goal:" he panted, loosening Dean's grip on him just enough to start to turn around, "Make it further into the room than we did this afternoon."

Dean threw his head back with laughter, and Castiel seized the opportunity to give him a shove him toward the bed. He suddenly knew exactly how he wanted Dean, and it definitely involved being on the bed.

Dean bit his lip as he stumbled back. He continued pacing slowly backwards, watching Castiel from beneath his long lashes, the look in his eyes somewhere between an invitation and a dare. As Castiel stalked toward him, a possessive ball of heat grew in his stomach and quickly spread to his chest. When the backs of Dean's legs finally hit the bed, Castiel closed the distance between them in two quick strides and grabbed Dean's shoulders, pulling him close to speak right into his ear.

"Shoes off. Keep your pants on." Castiel pitched his voice low, his tone firm. Dean made a small noise in the back of his throat and gave him the smallest nod. Castiel was already toeing off his own shoes, but he knew that Dean would have to sit down to untie his work boots.

As soon as he did, Castiel climbed onto the bed and knelt behind him, knees splayed to bracket Dean's hips so that he could press in close. Dean tossed him a suspicious glance, but bent down and started untying his shoes as instructed. Castiel just sat for a moment, watching the muscles of Dean's back shift as he moved. Incredible personality and their ridiculous chemistry aside, _fuck_ if Dean wasn't simply the most physically attractive man Castiel had ever had the good fortune to sleep with. Castiel wasn't even that picky about a guy's body if there was a pretty face attached, but so far he had yet to find an angle from which Dean didn't turn him on. His back was no exception.

He ran his hands over the smooth skin, then bent down and started kissing his way down Dean's spine. When Dean sat up to pull the boots off, Castiel slipped his hands under the waistband of Dean's jeans and boxers to massage his ass while biting gently into Dean's shoulders. Dean paused with his hands around one boot, arching his back a little and humming into his bitten lip. There was no rush, so Castiel kept moving his mouth over Dean's shoulders, nipping and licking and kissing, while Dean eventually managed to get both of his boots off in between long pauses for gasps and increasingly broken noises.

When Dean finally put down his second boot and sat up straight, Castiel pressed into him, gently pulling his head back by the short hair for better access. He was pleased when Dean's eyes fell closed, and then the look on Dean's face when he tugged the hair a little harder made Castiel groan and almost abandon his plan in favor of just getting right to fucking Dean.

But instead he pressed his mouth to Dean's ear and murmured, "You've proven yourself to be so good at dirty talk, Dean. Tell me all about what you've been imagining since you first saw me."

Dean whimpered. Castiel released his hair and waited patiently, sitting back on his heels so that he wasn't pressed quite as hard into Dean's back.

"Um," Dean rasped, breathing hard, "Fuck. Okay. When I first saw you. That one panel, I was mostly just imagining how you'd look going down on me. 'Cause all I could see was your face. So I pictured those fucking eyes of yours, looking up at me while that five o'clock shadow wraps around my dick. You were easily the hottest guy I'd seen in forever, I couldn't get your face outta my head. I was glad you were so focused on your laptop and the people talking, 'cause I was staring a fucking hole through you, man. And I didn't even imagine coming all over you, jesus, that was hotter than anything I managed to think of."

Castiel laughed, then slid his arms around Dean's waist.

"Good," he murmured as he slid his hands up to Dean's chest, rising up on his knees to press against Dean again. "Did you get more creative later on?"

"Well, uh, afterward since I was up at the front talking to Charlie, I had a better view." He gasped as Castiel started to rub his nipples. "I—I was totally. _Ngh_. Staring at your ass while you were leaving. Obvious enough that Charlie noticed. So, I had a little more material to work with after that."

Castiel smiled against the back of Dean's neck. He pinched at Dean's nipples and grinned wider at the way Dean squirmed against him, whining.

"And?"

" _Fuck_. Okay, um. Charlie dragged me to some thing I didn't care about yesterday afternoon, some friend of hers who writes chick lit or something, and I spent the entire fucking thing thinking about you. First thinking about kneeling in front of you while you fucked my face, how good you'd taste, how I could reach around you and grab that ass while I got you deep down my throat. Then I moved on to you holding me down and fucking me. Just throwing me face down on the bed and goin' at it, just using me."

Castiel moaned and bit lightly into Dean's shoulder. He slid a hand down and palmed Dean's dick through his jeans while rocking against him from the back, drawing yet another whimper out of Dean.

"God, Dean," he groaned into Dean's ear, "if I'd known you were somewhere in that crowd thinking about all that I would have hunted you down right then and dragged you back here."

"Now you," Dean panted, "Please, Cas, lemme hear what you were thinking about."

Oh, that was too perfect a setup. Castiel nipped at the skin behind Dean's ear.

"I'd rather show you. Do you want that?" He traced Dean's ear with his tongue, making Dean whine and shudder instead of answering him. "Do you want me to fuck you exactly the way I've been imagining for the past two days?"

Dean turned his head to capture Cas's mouth in a wet, desperate kiss, and kept turning, pulling his legs up onto the bed until their knees were slotted together. 

When Dean pulled away, Castiel suddenly realized that while he was still up on his knees, Dean had placed himself lower, sitting back on his heels. So that he was gazing up at Castiel.

"Yes. God, please, Cas, _yes_. _Please_."

Castiel's breath caught at the sight. Dean below him, _begging_ , might have been the most stunning thing he'd ever seen. He caught Dean's lower lip with his thumb, watched Dean's eyes flutter closed.

"So beautiful," he breathed, almost to himself. But then he raked a hand through Dean's hair and assumed a firmer tone.

"Stand up, back to the wall. Put your hands behind your back. And _keep them there_."

Dean's eyes opened, lust-blown, and after a second he nodded slowly and pushed himself back off the bed. Castiel sat down to watch him move into position.

Once Dean was standing as Castiel had asked him to, Cas caught his gaze and held it while walking over to him. He splayed one hand on Dean's chest and leaned in close, their faces not quite touching, teasing him a little before finally kissing him. He took control of the kiss—speed, depth, rough or gentle—and Dean ceded it easily. When Castiel pulled back, he grinned at the tiny whine Dean gave, then moved his mouth over to Dean's ear.

"God, you're perfect," he purred as he crowded up against Dean. "How the hell did I find you?"

Dean turned his face toward him, seeking out his lips again, but Castiel pulled back quickly, still smiling. He made sure to catch Dean's eye again, then took a half a step back and slid slowly to his knees—and while the movement reversed their earlier positions, there was no mistaking anything about his posture or expression for submission. He was gratified to watch Dean's eyes stay locked on his, even as he reached forward and slowly undid Dean's pants. He slid his hand in and felt Dean's dick through his boxers, smiled at the way Dean's eyes _almost_ fell closed at the touch.

He worked Dean's pants and underwear down to his ankles without breaking the eye contact, then tugged a little to prompt Dean to lift each foot so he could pull them off entirely. Once he had Dean completely naked, Castiel moved back just enough so that he could rake his eyes down that gorgeous body, taking in every detail, in no hurry. God, if he were a teenager he'd want a poster of this to hang in his bedroom. When he finally looked back up, he was pleased to see that Dean was watching him, waiting to see what came next, completely untroubled by the close scrutiny.

Castiel leaned forward, again maintaining eye contact, and licked across the tip of Dean's cock, which was already leaking precome having hardly been touched. Dean's breath stuttered and his arms twitched, but he kept his eyes on Castiel's and his hands behind his back. Castiel gave it one more lick, dragging the tip of his tongue across the wet slit, then pulled back and stood up.

He leaned in and gave Dean a sweet, simple kiss to reward him for being so good and patient. Then he turned around, walked a few steps forward to the bed, and began slowly working his own jeans off, giving Dean ample opportunity to watch the ass that he'd apparently been so interested in.

Dean hummed appreciatively. "The real question is, how the hell did I find _you_?"

"I guess you were just lucky I was wearing my tightest jeans yesterday," Castiel mused as he bent over to pull his pants off his ankles.

"Eh," Dean said casually, "I woulda tracked you down for just your face, but that ass sure as hell didn't hurt."

Castiel turned back around to face Dean, stroking himself lightly as he did. He nodded toward the bed.

"On your hands and knees, head toward the foot of the bed."

Dean nodded, biting his lip as he pushed away from the wall. Once he was in position, Castiel reached out and slid his hand along Dean's back, from his neck down to his ass. He wanted to do more, but he tore himself away long enough to dig into the drawer of the bedside table where he'd stashed the lube and condoms the night before. He pulled out what was needed and tossed it onto the bed before climbing up to kneel behind Dean.

He'd chosen this spot for a reason; facing one half of the bed was a television, but on the other side was a large mirror above the dresser. With Dean facing the foot of the bed, they could watch themselves easily. Or rather, Castiel could watch Dean easily.

He reached out and began to massage Dean's ass, watching his face closely in the mirror. The harder Castiel grabbed the muscle or rubbed his fingers down the crack, the better the show. Dean's eyes first fluttered closed gently, then squeezed shut tighter with a groan. His jaw alternately clenched or went slack depending on how Castiel touched him. Finally, Castiel's self-control hit its limit, and he slotted the length of his cock in between Dean's cheeks and started to rub himself against the crack. Dean pushed back against him, his face a picture of longing and desperation.

"Cas, please," Dean moaned, opening his eyes to look up at Castiel in the mirror, "please fuck me, god I need you inside me, _please_."

"Watch out," Castiel warned with a smirk. "You're so beautiful when you beg, Dean, I'm tempted to make you do it more." He reached down and grabbed the lube. "Luckily, though, you're beautiful no matter what you do, so I'd much rather give in right now."

As Castiel slid one slick finger into Dean's hole, he was rewarded by the sight of Dean throwing his head back as he pushed himself back onto it. He added another finger quickly and soon Dean was fucking himself on them, making no attempt at all to hide how desperate he was for Castiel's dick inside him.

"More, please, I can take more," Dean gasped out, opening his eyes to catch Castiel's.

Castiel deliberately held the eye contact for a moment before sliding a third finger in, and Dean managed to take it without looking away.

"Oh, _good_ , Dean," Castiel murmured, "I know it's hard to keep your eyes open when something feels this good—" He grazed his fingers over Dean's prostate, smiling gently when Dean's face contorted but his eyes stayed locked on Castiel's. "But look at you. God, you're incredible."

He managed to maintain the eye contact while reaching down and getting the condom on, then lubing himself. It was intoxicating, the electricity that was sparking just from their eyes meeting in the mirror. Being face-to-face was terrific, but the layer of separation that the mirror provided seemed to heighten everything, just as trying not to touch on the way back to the hotel had.

Castiel cocked his head to one side as he pressed the tip of his cock against Dean's hole. "Is this what you want, Dean?"

At first Dean just moaned and pressed back, but then he nodded. "Yes, Cas, fuck me, please fuck me. God, Cas, c'mon, _please_."

"Shhhh." Castiel stroked Dean's back as he started to push in. He moaned half at the sensation of his head going in, half at the look on Dean's face. "You know how badly I want you, Dean. I couldn't make you wait longer if I tried."

Their eyes held as Castiel worked himself the rest of the way in, but after one more thrust Castiel gave in and closed his eyes for a moment. His body did not give a single shit that they'd just had sex a few hours ago (not to mention in the shower that morning); he felt like he'd been waiting all day for this. He let himself thrust in hard a few more times, relishing the sounds Dean made, the way he pushed his hips back to meet Castiel every time.

Then Castiel pushed in slowly, and once he was completely buried in Dean he bent forward to kiss the back of his neck. He'd let himself get distracted several times, but now, finally he'd come to the part he'd been fantasizing about all day. He wrapped an arm around Dean's chest and tugged him backwards, and after a bit of shifting he had what he wanted.

Castiel latched his mouth onto Dean's throat, but his eyes were turned up to the scene in the mirror in front of them: Dean in his lap, writhing on Castiel's cock, head thrown back in ecstasy. His whole toned torso on display, down to the wet, shining cock jutting out just above the slot where his legs spread to bracket Castiel's knees, where Cas could just see himself disappearing into Dean with every roll of Dean's hips. 

The view was just as breathtaking as he'd imagined. Coupled with the tight heat of Dean's ass gripping him as they slid together, Castiel had to close his eyes for a moment to keep himself from going over the edge too soon. Once he had himself under control, he started to suck a mark into Dean's shoulder as he slid one hand around and down to massage Dean's balls. He let himself enjoy the soft whimpers that that drew out for a moment before reaching the other hand around to slide over the wet head of Dean's cock, starting at the slit and smearing precome over every bit that wasn't already glistening with it.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Dean moaned breathlessly, "oh fuck Cas, you're so fucking good inside me, jesus, _Cas,_ yeah just like that…" Dean continued his litany of praise as he watched Castiel's hands in the mirror, stroking him slowly. Castiel stayed quiet, focusing himself on Dean's pleasure, watching every movement for signs of what he should do next. When their eyes happened to meet again, he felt a shudder run down Dean's back, and Castiel found himself briefly dropping his head to Dean's shoulder to escape. There was something intense there that he couldn't quite handle right at that moment.

Castiel wanted Dean to come first, wanted to feel that clenching around him while watching the show in the mirror, but he also wanted to draw this out a bit more. He wanted to stay right here for hours, watching this gorgeous man riding his cock, committing every detail to memory. Listening to every word and sound that came out of Dean's mouth, relishing the feel of Dean's body sliding against his chest.

After a few more minutes, Castiel started to feel like he was being selfish, dragging it out, so he gradually sped up the hand on Dean's cock, squeezing experimentally on the upstroke. Soon Dean's words had given way to panting and small desperate sounds as he sped up his own motions. Castiel let Dean set the pace, matching his moves but not letting himself lose control; he had to concentrate very hard not to fuck up into Dean with abandon as Dean moved faster, or it would be over far too quickly.

Luckily, though, he didn't have to maintain the self-control for long. Soon Dean was gasping his name, and he found himself moaning Dean's in reply as he watched Dean's orgasm play out in front of him, simultaneously feeling it clamp down on him. It was a blissful sensory overload, and by the time Dean was finished Castiel could feel his own orgasm building, pulling him tight. He dug his fingers into Dean's chest and fucked him hard and fast for just a few strokes before the tension broke and he was coming, with his eyes locked onto Dean's in the mirror.

He held Dean close as they came down, panting. As soon as he regained even a shred of coherency, Castiel was pressing kisses along Dean's neck and shoulders, which Dean accepted with a soft hum and a smile. Dean seemed content, relaxed, as one should be after incredible sex. Not at all like what was going on in Castiel's head. He felt like his brain was putting some pieces of itself back together after having been splintered by the surprising intimacy of the sex they'd just had. 

When he'd imagined this, he was really only thinking about getting to see Dean's body on display in front of him while getting to fuck Dean from behind. But there was something about the way that their use of the mirror played into the power dynamic they'd set up… The thing was, he didn't do that with strangers. The dominance thing. He didn't go to clubs or dungeons, he didn't seek out partners just to "scene" with. For him, it had always been a way to connect emotionally and make sex more meaningful in the context of a relationship.

He'd just started giving Dean instructions because he had some ideas and wanted to make them happen. But Dean had clearly enjoyed it, and they'd fed off of each other, and Castiel probably should have pulled back from it sooner but he didn't. And then—he would have expected the mirror to give him some distance, but instead it amplified everything he felt. The end result was intimate in a way that, despite his quickly-deepening feelings for Dean, he hadn't been entirely prepared for.

After a few moments, Castiel managed to clear his head enough to get up and get something to clean them up with. As soon as he did, Dean fell back onto the bed, and Castiel could hear a murmur of "Holy fuck" as he went into the bathroom. Cas smiled to himself as he rinsed the come off his hand and wet a washcloth—it was good to know that at least Dean had enjoyed it physically as much as he had, even if the intense emotional connection might have been one-sided. He tried to focus on that and push down the squirmy feeling that was starting up in his stomach, the one that was connected to the worry that he could be feeling far more, far more quickly, than Dean was and maybe he needed to steel himself for disappointment.

Once they were cleaned up and under the covers, lights off and alarm set, it wasn't long before they were making out again. It clearly wasn't building up to anything more, though—slow and lazy kisses paired with hands wandering gently. Eventually the kissing tapered off until they were just lying wrapped in each other, faces inches apart, watching each other in the dim light filtering through the hotel curtains.

"Please tell me we can do this again," Dean finally said, his voice low. Castiel hoped his shy smile didn't give away exactly how hard his heart leapt at the request.

"I will tell you that," he said, kissing Dean one more time. "This Friday?"

"Awesome," Dean replied.

It wasn't until he was drifting to sleep that it occurred to the voice in Castiel's head to wonder whether "this" referred to the date, the whole day, generally spending time together and having fun and getting to know each other… or only to the mindblowing sex they'd just had. Luckily, he was too far gone towards sleep and too comfortable curled in Dean's arms to let it worry him. Much.

The next morning was a struggle. First, a struggle to wake up to the 6:30 alarm and do anything other than wrap more tightly around each other and go back to sleep. Then a struggle to get ready and packed while also trying to spend as much time as possible making out. And finally, a struggle to not let the making out go far enough to tempt them into anything that would put them at risk of running late. They were only victorious in two of these struggles.

"No, this is— _fuck—_ see, Dean, this—" Castiel gasped as Dean rocked their hips together. Castiel had only started protesting when Dean had grabbed the backs of his thighs and hoisted him up to sit on the bathroom counter he'd been leaning against. Now his head fell back against the mirror as Dean nibbled down his neck. "This is not something you should do unless you intend to follow through," he finally managed to get out before a moan escaped him, "and right now we do not have time to follow through."

Dean grunted into his neck. "Please, we've got ten spare minutes. I bet I can make you come in the next ten minutes."

"Believe me," Castiel gasped, "I am not contesting that claim. But I am less sure that we can both come in the next ten minutes."

Dean pulled back from him with a predatory grin, shrugging. "Not a problem." He was already unzipping Cas's pants.

And that was how Castiel got his first ever blowjob on a bathroom countertop. And probably last, because it was not the most comfortable place he'd ever gotten a blowjob—though that fact did not prevent Dean from finishing him off well within the time limit.

At 7:30 they were in the hotel lobby as scheduled, and Castiel was introducing Hannah to Dean and Charlie. He pointedly ignored her smirk when he introduced Dean.

"This is new," she murmured to him while Charlie and Dean were distracted trying to close a jammed zipper on Charlie's bag, "I'm used to seeing pretty men stumble awkwardly out of your hotel room when I go to meet you in the morning. I'm a bit thrown by actually being told his name, let alone riding in his car."

Castiel gave her a glare, but it wasn't terribly heated given that he couldn't exactly say she was wrong.

"I think it's nice, Castiel," she said more gently. "I have no problem with your usual escapades, but I'm glad you met someone a little more meaningful this time."

Although her tone was matter-of-fact, her eyes were soft and Castiel could feel his tense shoulders loosen under their gaze. He couldn't say that he and Hannah were exactly close friends, as they rarely socialized outside of work, but she was certainly his closest work friend. They often ate lunch together, and their romantic lives—or lack thereof, depending—had become a regular source of conversation. She was certainly the only one of his coworkers he discussed such things with, maybe because of her directness about them.

By then Charlie's bag was fixed, so the group headed out to Dean's car.

Castiel was not really a car person, but he knew enough to compliment the Impala, given the way Dean had spoken of it. And he had to admit, even if he knew nothing about it, that it was very clearly well-taken-care-of. Shiny and clean, not a scratch anywhere.

He was a bit surprised, but grateful, when Charlie immediately slid into the back seat as she flashed him a smile, leaving him to sit in the front with Dean.

The drive, which was much longer than it should have been for the distance because of Chicago traffic, was far less awkward than Castiel had worried it might be. He was surprised when Hannah and Charlie wound up deep in conversation—he knew Hannah had just finished the first draft of a novel, and they were talking about the process of editing, revising, and looking for a publisher.

He found a box of cassette tapes—honest-to-god cassette tapes—in the footwell when he first got in, and he and Dean wound up comparing musical tastes as he dug through them. He would pull one out, and they'd compare notes on it. Of course, they were all favorites of Dean's, or else they wouldn't be there, but some were more special to him than others. As they chatted, they continually found excuses to touch each other, whether on the hand, leg, face, shoulder, hair—anywhere they could reach across the Impala's wide bench seat.

When they reached the airport, they found that Charlie's terminal was first. She pulled her suitcase out of the trunk and then went around to where Dean was getting out of the driver's seat. They hugged, having a short murmured conversation as they did.

"You text me when your death trap lands, you got it?" Dean said more loudly, wagging a finger at her.

Charlie rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Daa-aad, you're embarrassing me!"

"Shut up, Red, or you're grounded." Dean gave her a peck on the cheek. "Have a good flight, kiddo."

As he got back into his seat, Charlie bent down to wave to Castiel and Hannah through his door.

"It was really great meeting you guys. I guess I'll see you at the signing in like a month! Hannah, you let me know if you have any more questions before then."

She flashed them a vulcan salute as they said their goodbyes, and then Dean waited until she disappeared into the terminal before pulling away from the curb.

At Castiel and Hannah's terminal, Dean actually turned the car off and got out to help them get their bags out of the trunk. Once she had her suitcase, Hannah wandered off to one side and busied herself digging around in her purse. Castiel wondered if she was actually looking for something or just discreetly waiting for him while giving them a moment alone.

After he closed the trunk, Dean slid his hands around Castiel's waist and kissed him gently. Castiel let his hands come to rest on Dean's biceps, savoring the way the muscles moved under his fingers.

"Thanks for a great weekend, Cas," Dean said quietly. The small smile on his lips and soft look in his eyes gave Castiel a twisting, fluttering in his chest.

"I suppose the polite thing to say here would be 'the pleasure was all mine,'" Castiel purred, his nose brushing Dean's, "but given that I'm fairly certain you had at least one orgasm somewhere along the way, that seems disingenuous."

"Disingenuous." Dean's voice was mocking, but the way his smile widened and he nudged against Castiel's face softened the effect considerably. "Who the fuck uses the word disingenuous in normal conversation?"

"People with good taste." Castiel somehow managed to sound superior rather than petulant. Mostly.

"Good taste, huh?"

"Good taste in words."

Dean snorted, and then they were laughing and kissing, and Castiel's hands were in Dean's hair.

"Fuckin' nerd," Dean murmured into Castiel's mouth. Castiel hummed in agreement as they kissed again. The previous night's insecurities looked absurd in the daylight, in the face of Dean's clear affection. 

Finally, they pulled apart and steeled themselves to actually say goodbye.

"I'll see you on Friday then?" Cas asked. He was relieved that this wasn't really a goodbye. More like the end of a really long, really amazing date.

"Yeah, I'll call you later in the week and we can work out the details, okay?" Castiel nodded, and then Dean glanced down, looking a bit sheepish. His cheeks even tinged just the slightest bit pink. "Look, sorry, I know this is stupid but could you humor me and text me when you get there?"

"You really don't trust airplanes, do you?" Castiel hoped he sounded as fond as he felt, and not mocking.

"I do not." Dean looked him square in the eye. "You just wait and see, Cas, one of these days they're gonna rise up and overthrow us."

Cas paused, squinting at him. "Robots, Dean. You're thinking of robots."

"That's what they want you to think."

Castiel shook his head. "Fucking nerd."

They laughed again and kissed one more time, just briefly. Castiel knew that he was pushing the limit of how long he could make Hannah wait before it was just rude.

They finally said goodbye, then Dean said bye to Hannah and got back into the car with a final wave.

As Castiel walked into the terminal with Hannah, he could feel her throwing him looks from the corner of her eye every few seconds.

"So," she finally said as they printed their boarding passes. "That was adorable."

He could feel himself blushing, and stayed focused on the touch screen in front of them.

"Dean lives in Kansas City too," he finally told her. "We're going to see each other again next weekend."

"I'm really happy for you, Castiel," she said, turning to face him. "He seems very nice. I liked Charlie, too. She had a lot of helpful things to say. She even gave me her phone number in case I needed more advice."

They were walking toward security by then, and Castiel noticed how her eyes flitted away as she said that last bit.

"Huh." He finally said. "I spent quite a lot of time with her and all she gave me was her email."

Hannah was quiet as they got into the security line. They were halfway through when she suddenly turned to Castiel.

"Do you think she might have been flirting with me?" she blurted out. Her birdlike features were pinched in confusion, her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed.

Castiel shrugged. "It's entirely possible. Did you want her to be?"

Hannah's eyes skittered around as they moved up in the line. When they stopped again, she drew herself up and looked him in the eye again.

"Maybe I do," she said, in the proper yet forceful tone that Castiel associated with Hannah having made up her mind about something. "I've never dated a woman before, but maybe that's only because I've never had a woman show any interest."

Castiel grinned at her as they stepped up to present their boarding passes and IDs to the TSA agent. Apparently Hannah was going to approach questioning her sexuality in the same direct yet methodical way she approached nearly everything else.

"Good luck, then," he said. "I hope this trip proves to have been a personal as well as professional success for both of us."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Improvised Shakespeare is a thing, and it is an amazing thing. It's Friday nights (not Sunday nights, I did take that liberty) at iO in Wrigleyville. If you are in Chicago on a Friday, I highly recommend you go, it is the best improv I've ever seen (including other iO shows) and if you're a Shakespeare nerd you'll squee over all the tropes they throw in. :)
> 
> In case it's confusing, I want to clarify that I'm using Purah as a nickname for Puriel, much like Anna is a nickname for Anael. I wanted to use "real" angel names for Cas's siblings, which Puriel is, but there has not been an angel named Puriel on the show. There was, though, an angel named Purah who guarded the gate to heaven for Metatron. So there you go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this and the next chapter were going to be one chapter all together. But then I realized it was well over 6K and I was maybe halfway done, and decided to split it up rather than make you guys wait at least another week, after such a slow update for ch 3.

**To: Castiel**  
So how'd your Chicago thing go?   
I saw you did one of your blog things with Charlie Bradbury, how'd that happen?

 **To: Anna**  
I met someone.

 **To: Castiel**  
You met Charlie Bradbury, right?  
OMG you mean you met someone-met someone!  
Seriously? Castiel, spill!

 **To: Anna**  
His name is Dean, and he happens to be best friends with Charlie, so that's how I met her.

 **To: Castiel**  
I'm bringing Indian by after work and you will tell me everything.

 **To: Anna**  
I know better than to argue.

True to her word, Castiel's little sister was at his door at six o'clock, fragrant takeout bag in hand.

As soon as he opened the door, she brushed past him into the apartment, all business as she started pulling containers out of the bag and arraying them on the kitchen table.

"Hello Anna, nice to see you, too. Oh, yes, my flight was fine, thanks for asking." Castiel addressed the air around himself as he closed the door and sauntered into the kitchen after her.

She stopped unwrapping a packet of naan just long enough to cock an eyebrow at him.

"His name is Dean. Continue."

Castiel rolled his eyes as he opened up a container of rice. "His name is Dean. He's gorgeous. I had the best weekend of my life. I don't know what you want me to say! Can't you just ask questions like a normal nosy person?"

Anna glared at him as she scooped food onto her plate. He knew he was being evasive, but he really didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound trite or cheesy or over-the-top. _Best weekend of my life_ was bad enough, even if it was absolutely true. _The man of my dreams?_ Ugh. _I saw him from across the room…_ Seriously? _I'm falling in love, way too fast, my heart is running ahead of my brain and I'm terrified that this is just Bartholomew all over again_ … Well okay, _that_ he was probably going to have to talk about eventually. But he certainly didn't need to _lead_ by comparing Dean to Bartholomew.

"Fine. How did you meet?"

"We noticed each other at a panel Saturday morning. Charlie's panel, actually. Didn't see him the rest of the day, then we ran into each other at an after-hours thing at a bar that evening. Then we, um. We… basically spent the rest of the weekend together, right up to him giving me a ride to the airport this morning. He lives around here, so. We're going to see each other again." Castiel could feel himself blushing faintly by the end, and he shoved a large bite of curry into his mouth so that he wouldn't have answer any further questions for a moment or two. This _really_ wasn't how he normally operated; it sounded like a sixteen-year-old's idea of how romance happens.

Anna gave him a shrewd look. "The rest of the weekend? Castiel. You do not generally refer to your no-strings-attached out-of-town hookups as 'meeting someone,' so obviously this was different. Hence, the Indian food and the prying. But I assumed you just meant you, like, got his number the next morning or something. You seriously met this guy in a bar and then spent the next… what… _36 hours_ or so with him? Please tell me that was not just some kind of sex marathon."

"We did manage to leave the hotel room occasionally." He didn't actually intend to leave it at that, but he waited until Anna gave him a pleading look to continue. "We went to some Lit Fest stuff together, had lunch with Charlie, I showed him around Chicago a little. Although yes, there was a lot of sex involved, too." He glanced up at Anna and saw her expression softening. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or chagrined.

"Fine, if you won't give me details on what you did, tell me about _him_." Her eyes sparkled. Castiel knew she was just happy for him, but he still felt ridiculous. "Who is this gorgeous man who managed to keep you by his side all weekend?"

He sighed. "Okay. His name is Dean Winchester." Anna rolled her eyes, and Castiel glared at her before continuing. "He lives in Lenexa. He's a mechanic and is getting a degree in creative writing at KU. He's a widower, his wife died a couple of years ago. He likes classic rock and classic cars and Vonnegut and Star Wars. He wants to write horror novels. He's quick-witted and intelligent but he had to drop out of high school to support his younger brother, so he doesn't believe it. He's overtly masculine in a way that at first glance screams overcompensating frat boy, exactly the type of man you'd expect to find in the closet nursing a good case of defensive homophobia, yet he is absolutely at ease showing romantic and sexual affection to another man in public. And the way he looks at me makes me want to believe this is going somewhere." 

He groaned inwardly at the way that got away from him at the end. He sounded like a schoolgirl mooning over the quarterback. He was ridiculous.

"Do you?" Anna asked with a smile. "Think it's going somewhere?"

Castiel could feel himself retreating inward; he'd already said too much. "How am I supposed to know? It was one weekend, it could have been a fluke." But as soon as he said it, he regretted it. He didn't need to take his irrational insecurities out on his sister. When she set down her fork and narrowed her eyes, he knew he was really going to regret it.

"Why are you being so defensive, Castiel? You have no problem telling me all the gory details of good dates, bad dates, mediocre dates. Now it sounds like you had an amazing time with a wonderful man, and suddenly you're all tense and throwing up all these walls. Is there a problem there that you don't want to tell me about?"

Castiel pushed his plate away, put his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. He was being an idiot, and Anna deserved better. He couldn't quite look up at her; he kept his eyes covered as he spoke, his fingers threading into his thick hair.

"I'm sorry. You're right, I'm being terrible. I did have an amazing time and he is a wonderful person. And as soon as I stepped onto that airplane I started overthinking this and I haven't stopped." He finally looked at Anna wearily. He knew that she wouldn't tease him, wouldn't tell him his feelings weren't valid. If there was one person on earth he could talk to about this, it was her. "From the moment we met he was warm and affectionate, very tactile, full of these comfortable, casual touches. When I was with him… Everything fell into place. It was effortless. And the way he looks at me—god, Anna, I can't tell you the last person who looked at me like that. When he's there in front of me there's no doubt in my mind that he wants this, wants to be with me and try to turn this into something. 

"Even if… Even if I don't know exactly how he feels, and maybe I'm falling faster than he is, because Anna, the way I feel about him already is fucking ridiculous and it's fine if he doesn't quite feel the same way because that just means he's retained some shred of rationality that appears to have abandoned me. When I'm with him, I know he feels _something_ for me, and whatever's there has the potential to grow."

Anna listened to his rambling patiently. When he paused she tilted her head to one side. "But when you're not with him?"

He gave her a significant look. "What do you think?"

"Castiel, every man you fall for is not Bartholomew." Anna's tone was firm. "You seem to think Dean is a good person."

"He doesn't have to be malicious to break my heart. Even if the situation with Bartholomew had been a case of miscommunication, the result would mostly have been the same. If I want more than Dean does, it'll be a mess. I'm not good at handling that. And Charlie said something to me… Something about Dean not being able to commit right now? She said I should be patient, and she thinks he'll come around eventually, but it doesn't exactly inspire confidence. Especially since she couldn't give me details." He looked down at his food, stomach churning. He was hungry, but he wasn't sure he could eat much more when just thinking about this was making him sick.

"Have you talked to Dean about _any_ of this?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Anna, I've known the man for two days. I don't need to parade my insecurities in front of him just yet. And telling him I'm a thirty-three-year-old who's immature enough to think he's falling in love after two days would scare off anyone sane. What am I supposed to say? 'I know we just met, but I'm so clingy that I'd really like to move on to an actual relationship and if you're not ready for that I'm probably going to freak out because the last guy who couldn't commit turned out to be a sociopath?'" He dropped his head back against his chair, groaning. "This is why I have you, Anna, so that I can get it all out of my system and I don't have to show him what a fucking mess I am."

Anna sighed, grabbing his hand and tugging it over to her lap to massage it. It was an old gesture of comfort, from when they were kids and she would see him wringing his hands and want to make him stop. He was lucky enough to outgrow many of his anxiety problems (with some help from a therapist in college), and didn't wring his hands anymore, but Anna rubbing his hand was always soothing. He felt his stomach unclench.

"You're not a mess, you're not immature, and you're not clingy." Castiel was, as ever, grateful that Anna did not use any sort of soothing, pitying tone with him. "You can't control how you feel about him. Yeah, it's probably a little soon to actually say the L-word, but if that's how you feel then that's great. It has nothing to do with maturity. What makes you mature or immature is how you handle it. It's not like you're stupid enough to base any major decisions on it. If you came home talking about moving in with him or something, then I'd worry. 

"And yeah, okay. It might even be too soon to start talking about relationships and boyfriends and stuff, even if you kinda want that. But you can at least, y'know, make it clear that you really like him and want to see more of him. _Don't_ let your insecurities convince you that he doesn't want to see you just as much without concrete evidence, okay? It would be so easy to scare yourself into being standoffish and then _he_ won't think _you're_ interested and let's just avoid that whole mess, all right?"

Castiel snorted, but he was smiling. Anna knew exactly what he was likely to worry about but not actually do wrong, but also exactly how he _was_ likely to mess up by worrying about the wrong things.

After a pause, she continued. "You don't have to tell him all about the Bartholomew shit until you're ready, but in my ever-so-humble opinion you probably should tell him about it if you guys _do_ make this thing official. You're not a mess, but yeah, you've got a little baggage. Big deal, everyone does. Clearly Dean does, too, whatever his friend was talking about. You've just gotta hope it goes well with yours."

"You are far too calm and rational, Anna," he said, shaking his head. "Don't tell dad, but there's no possible way we're fully blood siblings."

"Oh please," she said, dropping his hand and going back to her food. "You're one of the most laid-back people I know about 90% of the time. Then every once in a while you manage to psych yourself out about something and you get stuck in a spiral and need a little push to get out of it."

"Well thank you for pushing." He finally pulled his plate back toward himself. "We're going out on Friday. We'll see how that goes, I guess. Intellectually, I understand that there really is no point in trying for any sort of commitment so quickly, even if he's interested. Part of me just _wants_ him to want it, you know? I think just for petty validation. And, of course, so he doesn't get any better offers in the meantime. I'm only half joking, Anna, he is ridiculously attractive. It sounds like he's been understandably skittish about dating since Lisa died, but he's clearly starting to get over it and I'm sure he has both women and men lining up."

" _Tell_ me you have a picture of this remarkable-looking man."

Castiel pulled out his phone and looked through his photos—it wasn't like he'd taken a million, but it was hard to choose the best picture of someone so photogenic. He finally picked the one with the best lighting and handed it over. "Feel free to scroll around some, I didn't take any dirty ones."

Anna smirked at him as she took the phone, but when she looked at it her eyes widened. "Damn. Okay, you're not kidding. Hey, if you decide you're not interested…"

"Don't say it."

"I'm just saying that I would hit that in a heartbeat. I can understand why you'd be a little worried, but luckily, Castiel, you are just as attractive and most likely the best offer he's had in a long time." He rolled his eyes as she looked through the other photos. Mostly she looked impressed, but then she got to one that made her face melt into a fond smile. She turned the phone around. "Who took this one?"

"Oh, Charlie apparently stole my phone while we were eating lunch. I didn't realize she'd taken photos until later." He could feel himself blushing again. There were three such photos: In one, Castiel was talking and looking down at his food while Dean looked at him, one that was exactly the reverse, and one of them looking at each other and laughing. He knew the photos were a bit on the sappy side. Charlie had impeccable timing, apparently.

Anna looked at the other two photos, shaking her head. "Castiel," she said, looking up at him, "you have nothing to worry about. You said when he looks at you, you know he feels something? I am looking at him looking at you, and that is the face of someone who is completely smitten. Both of you, actually. These pictures make me very happy for you."

"Well, thank you, that means a lot to me," he told her, and he meant it. The pictures were only a few moments of time, but he felt more confident already, having her validate his perception of Dean. Before he could say anything else, though, his phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at it, and her eyes widened.

"It's him, it's him!" she squeaked, thrusting the phone back at him with a grin. He couldn't help laughing as he took it and opened the text—he knew that it was about the right time for Dean to be getting back into town, and sure enough, that was what the text was about.

 **To: Castiel**  
I survived, too. Just pulled into Lawrence for dinner at Bobby  & Ellen's.

When Castiel had arrived back in Kansas City, he had texted Dean as promised—but also pointed out that statistically it was _far_ more likely that Dean would die on his drive, and so a reciprocal text was clearly in order.

 **To: Dean**  
Good to hear. I'm having dinner with Anna.  
Who, for the record, wants in your pants now that she's seen a picture.

 **To: Castiel**  
Sweet, is your sister hot? ;)

"What's he saying?" Anna whispered, grinning.

Castiel snorted and took a photo of her, texting it to Dean. It was actually quite a good one, since she was so busy looking excited for him.

"Did you just take a picture of me?"

"What? No. That would be weird. Why would I send Dean a picture of you?"

 **To: Castiel**  
Huh. She looks as not at all like you as Gabe does, but also nothing like him. And way, way hotter.  
I mean, not as hot as you, and I'm not just saying that, but still hot.  
Your family has weird genetics, dude.

"I didn't say anything about sending it to Dean," Anna replied suspiciously.

"Neither did I, what are you talking about?" But it was too late, Anna was grabbing the phone back from him. He laughed as she scrolled through the texts, trying to look horrified and failing. When she started typing, he didn't stop her. He was too interested in finding out what she was going to say.

 **To: Dean**  
I hereby cede all rights to sex with you to my sister, Anna Novak, and you should definitely sleep with her. Not me.

 **To: Castiel**  
…  
Did Anna steal your phone?

 **To: Dean**  
I am glad that you are too smart to fall for her siren song.  
I do not cede any rights to any sex with you, to be clear.

 **To: Castiel**  
Feeling a little objectified here.  
Which is awesome, btw. :)  
But I gotta get inside and Bobby'll kill me if I'm glued to my phone in there.  
Ttyl, Cas. Tell Anna it was nice to meet her. :)

 **To: Dean**  
Have a nice time with your family.

"Okay, I like him, he can stay," Anna pronounced after reading the rest of the texts.

"Did you really just test the man I'm dating to make sure he wouldn't sleep with you behind my back?" Castiel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Of course not. I tested him to make sure he can put up with interfering little sisters." Anna started clearing away takeout boxes as she spoke. "A very important quality in a suitor, Castiel."

"He has a little brother, so I'm sure he's immune to your… well. I certainly wouldn't call them charms." In reality, Castiel was quietly elated. It was just a few texts, but knowing that Dean had remembered to contact him did wonders for his self-confidence. And while he was not at all surprised that Dean had responded well to Anna's poking, he was pleased just the same.

"So when do I get to meet him for real?" Anna threw him a sly look over her shoulder as she threw the boxes away. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad you didn't manage to run him off via text, but could we maybe wait until I've known him for more than three days to try scaring him away face-to-face?" He stood up and took their plates to the sink.

"Fine, fine," Anna said as he rinsed the plates. "I look forward to hearing how your date goes on Friday." She stopped and laid her hand on his shoulder, causing him to pause his rinsing to turn and look at her. Her smile was warm. "I have a good feeling about this, Castiel. I don't think he's going to break your heart."

As he went back to the dishes, he thought that maybe he could believe her.

—

The next two days passed uneventfully. He and Dean traded texts sporadically. Nothing terribly deep or meaningful, just random comments about their days. Wednesday morning Castiel looked at his work calendar and then grabbed his phone.

 **To: Dean**  
I forgot, I'm going to be in your neck of the woods this afternoon.  
I have a meeting at the Oak Park Library about a joint event we're doing with JCPL.

 **To: Castiel**  
Cool, what kind of event?

 **To: Dean**  
A comic book artist is doing a comics-drawing workshop for teens.  
He's only in town for the one day, so we're doing the joint event.

 **To: Castiel**  
Makes sense.  
That sounds awesome, btw.  
Did libraries do that shit when I was a kid and I just didn't know about it?

 **To: Dean**  
I'm sure they had programming of some kind.  
But you probably don't actually want me to expound upon how the modern public library has changed in the past two decades.  
It would take a while. I probably wouldn't know when to shut up.

 **To: Castiel**  
Whatever, that sounds interesting.  
Maybe better for in person than on text, though. :)  
I gotta get working, ttyl.

Castiel smiled down at his phone, but he also felt a strange sense of disappointment tugging at his stomach. It took him a minute or two of scrolling back through the conversation to figure out what it was: he'd sort of, in the back of his head, hoped that mentioning that he would be in Dean's neighborhood would lead to some kind of invitation. He knew that Dean worked an early shift, 6:30-3, which meant he would usually be back in Lenexa by the time Castiel's meeting was over at four. It really didn't matter, because Castiel had to make it back downtown to finish his workday. He wouldn't actually have time to go to Dean's house, or meet him for coffee, or anything like that, if Dean _did_ ask. But Dean hadn't even asked what time he would be there, or really expressed any interest in the fact that he'd be nearby at all.

 _Jesus christ, when did I turn into such an insecure teenager?_ he berated himself. He was sure he hadn't obsessed about minor details like this before Bartholomew. He wondered vaguely if needing therapy after a bad breakup was a thing.

He looked at the texts again and made himself focus on the fact that Dean wanted to talk to him in person. Which he knew already, but at the moment he really just needed to reassure himself that Dean was interested at all. He shook his head and put his phone away to get to work.

The meeting went well, even if it ran a little bit long. Afterward, Castiel was dragging, which was not good. He'd agreed to work late that night to cover for Jody, the children's librarian, who was going to some kind of recital for her daughter Alex. It was 4:15 and he was going to be working until eight, so it did not do to feel like he could fall asleep already. He saw a Starbucks just ahead and turned into it.

As he entered the parking lot, someone pulled out of a spot right up against the building, near the door, so he took it for himself. His car pointed straight into the huge window at the front, and as he turned off the engine he glanced into it.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

For a brief second, he was excited: There was _Dean_ , sitting right there at a table not twenty feet in front of him. But that excitement was crushed as soon as it was sparked, by the presence of a _very_ pretty young woman with light brown skin and curly, dark brown hair sitting at the same table. She was talking animatedly, and Dean was listening intently, looking directly at her and nodding occasionally.

Castiel froze. For a second he thought about pretending he hadn't seen them. Go inside, order his coffee. Leave things in Dean's court, to either notice Castiel or not, approach him or not. It was cowardly, but what was he supposed to do? Go up to him and possibly interrupt a date? Even if it wasn't a date—and really, he had no solid reason to think that it was—that would be painfully awkward. "Oh yes, meet Castiel, the guy I slept with this weekend."

All told, he was probably only sitting in the parking space with the car turned off for ten, maybe fifteen seconds before he turned it back on and got the hell out of there, but it felt like much longer. Just before he pulled his car out of the spot, he glanced back up to see Dean laugh at something the woman had said. He was thankful that Dean didn't know what his car looked like (come to think of it, now that he had seen Dean, he immediately noticed the Impala sitting on the other end of the parking lot).

 _Well now you know why he didn't want to see_ you _this afternoon_ , his traitor brain pointed out. 

As he got on the highway back toward downtown, he reminded himself of several facts: First, there were many reasons Dean might be getting coffee with an attractive young woman, and many of them did not involve any romantic or sexual content whatsoever. Second and relatedly, he really did not know Dean all that well and was not at all privy to many parts of his life that might contain non-date explanations. Third, even if it were a date, Dean was entirely within his rights to go on one. They had known each other for only a few days, and had barely discussed going on one more date, let alone any sort of exclusivity. Besides, for all Castiel knew, Dean may have set up the date before he left for Chicago and was following through out of politeness. 

Despite these facts, he could not stop himself from replaying what he had just seen in his head as he drove north. The exact tilt of Dean's head as he listened to the woman, the way he laughed at whatever she had said. He found himself comparing it to Dean's reactions to him—was Dean flirting with her the way he had with Castiel? Did the look in his eyes resemble the look Anna had seen in the pictures on his phone? Was he listening politely or because he found this woman fascinating?

He finally sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, putting it on speaker as he called Anna.

"Castiel? Aren't you at work?"

"I had a meeting in Johnson County this afternoon. I'm on my way back up to the library right now."

"Okay…" Anna sounded confused but concerned. "Is everything all right? You never talk on the phone while you're driving."

Castiel sighed."I just need you to tell me I'm being an idiot."

"Well, I can certainly do that. What are you being an idiot about?"

"The meeting was at the Oak Park Library, which is right by the mall. Which is almost in Lenexa."

"Okay."

"Dean lives in Lenexa. And he gets home from work around 3:30 or so usually."

"Okay. Did you go see him while you were down there? Did he do something?"

"Well, I texted him this morning and mentioned I'd be nearby, but he didn't say anything about it. We talked a little, but he didn't, I don't know, ask if I wanted to stop by his place or get coffee or anything."

"Castiel, that _definitely_ doesn't mean anything."

"I know, hold on. I'm not finished. I have to work late tonight, so on my way out I stopped at a Starbuck's. And Dean was in there. Having coffee with a woman. Some… very attractive young woman."

"Oh, Cassie." Somehow, it didn't grate on Castiel's nerves when Anna used the nickname, the way it did when Gabe used it. Maybe it was because it was a term of endearment coming from her, whereas Gabe only used it to get under his brother's skin. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, I didn't even go inside. I saw him through a window, I'm pretty sure he didn't see me. I was still in my car. What was I supposed to do, interrupt his date?"

"You don't know it was a date," she said firmly. "There are a million reasons he could have been getting coffee with someone. But you're only being half an idiot, because of course that's going to hurt a little."

"I feel like the next time I see him—assuming he still wants to see me again, he hasn't said a word about Friday recently—I feel like I'm just going to be incredibly awkward and tense and this woman's face will be in my head. I can't exactly ask him about it without sounding like a creepy stalker, even though it was completely by accident." He felt like he was starting to babble. He wasn't entirely sure if he felt better getting all this out to someone or not, but it certainly couldn't be _worse_ than letting it all stew in his head.

"I'm sure he still wants to see you again. Even if it _was_ a date, it's just one date. I'm sure if he had an actual girlfriend he would tell you that."

Castiel's stomach twisted. He was glad he hadn't had any coffee yet, or he might be sick. "Oh god, what if he wouldn't? I mean, we met when we were out of town, when it would be easy to hide that kind of thing—"

" _Castiel!_ " Anna cut him off so sharply he gasped. " _Now_ you are being an idiot. Repeat after me: Dean is not Bartholomew."

"Dean is not Bartholomew," he muttered.

"I told you," she continued, her voice gentling, "the way he was looking at you in those photos you showed me, that was real. He wasn't faking that for the camera, he didn't even know she was taking a picture. He clearly likes you, he cares about you. Maybe he's still seeing other people, but that doesn't mean he's lying to you about anything. It doesn't mean he doesn't want to see you. Obviously, nobody can guarantee you more than the one date you've already discussed, but that's true anytime you start dating someone. You just have to take it one day at a time and see where it goes. But don't assume it's over before it's begun, okay?"

Castiel blew out a long breath. "I know. I know. My exit's coming up, I should go. Thanks, Anna. I needed to be talked down."

She sighed. "Please don't give yourself an ulcer over this guy. I'm sure he's terrific, and I hope it works out for you, but he should not be causing you this much anxiety already. If he ever gives you actual reason to doubt his motives, Castiel, _please_ just get rid of him and move on. Don't tear yourself up over him. He's not worth that."

"I know," he said quietly, hoping that he did know. "None of this is really his fault, Anna. He's been nothing but wonderful so far. Even if he's seeing someone else, he has in no way led me to believe that he wouldn't be. This is all my issues here, and that's exactly why I'm not talking to him about it for now. It's not his problem."

"Okay. Love you."

"I love you, too, Anna. Thanks." He hung up his phone and sighed as he got off the highway. He still couldn't get the image of Dean and the mystery woman out of his head, but he didn't feel quite as sick over it. So that was something.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand thanks to the folks in the Antidiogenes chat for convincing me that cutting this at the angsty point was a good idea. ;) They are slowly teaching me to torture my readers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mild consent issues (not between Dean and Cas), details at the end.

When Castiel got back to the library, he walked into the middle of a crisis situation that pushed Dean out of his head for the moment. The kind of crisis situation that involved a man who had, according to Hannah, already tried to climb the bookshelves and was, at the moment Castiel returned, removing his clothing in front of the Reference desk. Luckily, two security guards were already on their way, so Castiel busied himself with crowd control, warning patrons away from the area until the situation was under control. This included a spontaneous story time to distract the kids in the children's section so that they wouldn't wander out.

By the time that had been dealt with, he needed to retreat to his office to write up some emails that he owed people after the meeting, and when he was done with that he was off his usual shift and officially switched over to being the children's librarian in Jody's stead. This involved running a book club meeting for 9-12-year-old girls at 6pm, so he started preparing for that.

He was flipping through the book they were supposed to have read, writing down ideas for discussion questions, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

**From: Dean**  
So, this date on Friday. We still on?

His heart fluttered, though of course Castiel's brain immediately supplied a picture of Dean and the mystery woman getting coffee. But it was suddenly much easier to deal with, knowing that whoever that was, whatever they were doing, Dean still wanted to go out with him. They were just starting to date; as long as Dean was still interested in him then it didn't matter who else he went out with. For now. He still wanted Castiel; that was all that mattered.

**To: Dean**  
Absolutely.

**From: Dean**  
Awesome. :) Can I pick you up at 7?

**To: Dean**  
That works for me. :)

**From: Dean**  
You ever been to Bluestem?

**To: Dean**  
No, I have not. I hear it's excellent, though.

Castiel paused for a moment. He couldn't exactly picture Dean enjoying the type of food that was served at such an upscale restaurant.

**To: Dean**  
Although, I hope you don't feel like you need to take me somewhere like that to impress me.

**From: Dean**  
I don't need to, but I want to.  
Not to impress you.  
Just because. :)

Castiel had to put his phone away and finish prepping for the book club, but he knew he'd be smiling the rest of the evening. Who cared about some girl in a coffee shop? She was probably an old friend of Lisa's he was catching up with or something. He almost wanted to thank Dean for setting his mind at ease, but of course that would require explaining why he was upset in the first place… and he wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed by the creepiness of the story or his frankly alarming levels of insecurity. Definitely not something to bring up, either way. Not now, and not on Friday. During their date. Castiel grinned to himself again.

—

By Friday evening, the sickness he'd felt over what he'd seen in the Starbucks had been replaced by a much more benign twist in his stomach as he fiddled with his clothing in front of the mirror. 

Most of his nerves were good ones, excited ones. Most. Not quite all. There was no rational reason that a change in geography would affect anything. There was nothing magical about Chicago, and no force field around Kansas City that would keep their chemistry at bay. Still, it felt a bit like last weekend had been a pleasant dream that couldn't possibly hold its form here in the real world.

When he opened the door, though, he was standing in front of O'Hare again and no time had passed. There was Dean, leaning on the door frame with his hands in his pockets. Castiel vaguely registered how nicely his outfit—a tight, deep green v-neck t-shirt under a black blazer with equally tight-fitting dark jeans—accentuated his muscular form, but his attention mostly zeroed in on the smile that broke out as soon as the door opened. A smile that was just as clear in Dean's eyes as in his mouth, and that Castiel could feel himself returning without thinking.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel stepped back and motioned for Dean to come in, holding the door open. Dean only came in just enough to stand next to Castiel as he closed the door, and then he felt Dean's fingers touching his shoulder lightly, trailing down to the bottom hem of the charcoal waistcoat he was wearing over a pinstriped shirt. He looked up to see Dean's eyes scanning down his body appreciatively.

"Jesus, Cas." Dean's voice was a quiet, low rumble, and Castiel was already turned on. "Looks like you've got two settings—quidditch t-shirt or dapper as _fuck_. No in-between, huh?"

Before he'd really thought it through, Castiel's hands were sliding under the blazer and around Dean's waist, Dean's fingers were in his hair, and they were kissing as though they'd gone five months without instead of (not even) five days. Castiel was taken aback by how _familiar_ Dean's mouth was, warm and pliant against his. His hands knew the planes of Dean's torso like a lover, not an acquaintance.

When they finally pulled back, breathing heavily, foreheads and noses still touching, Castiel had to push down all the words that wanted to come out in a rush: _God I missed you, I didn't even know how much I missed you until I touched you, I need this, I need you in my life, stay please stay please stay._ Instead he said:

"I also have work clothes."

Dean laughed and pressed one more kiss to his mouth.

"C'mon, we've got reservations, and I wanna get going so I can show off my sexy-ass date."

"Yes, let's go, so you can show off your sexy ass." Castiel pushed Dean out the door ahead of him in order to watch said ass while Dean complained about the horrible joke.

The restaurant happened to be less than a fifteen minute walk from Castiel's apartment, so they left the Impala in his lot and strolled hand-in-hand through the (fortunately mild) June night. Another month and it would be impossible to go out in these clothes, even after dark, but there was a breeze and low humidity, and they weren't the only ones enjoying it. They joked and chattered about the neighborhood and interesting passersby, interspersed with companionable silences. Any nerves were long-since forgotten by the time they reached Bluestem. Being with Dean was as easy as Castiel remembered it, and the glances they stole were as full of affection and longing as any in Chicago.

—

"So what's the worst first date you've ever been on?"

They were seated in a corner table, on adjoining sides facing out into the room. They'd just finished ordering, and now Dean was leaning forward on his elbows, biting his lip with a boyish gleam in his eye.

Castiel laughed. "Where did that come from?"

"Shut up," Dean kicked him gently under the table. "I'm trying to pretend like this is a _normal_ second date with someone I've only been on one other _normal_ date with."

"If that's what you're trying to _pretend_ it is, then what is it really?" Castiel asked, eyes narrowed.

"I don't know, dude. It's technically our second date-date, but our first date-date was stuck in the middle of some kind of crazy sex weekend so I don't even know what that counts as." They both got about as far as "crazy sex weekend" before laughing.

"So I take it the failed attempt at a one night stand that instead kicked off a 'crazy sex weekend'" Castiel made actual air quotes, which made Dean laugh harder, "doesn't count as a date? Even with the fountain? You have to admit, the fountain was nice."

"The fountain was fucking smooth," Dean allowed with a grin, " _But_ I seem to remember you even using the phrase 'actual date' when you asked me about dinner on Sunday, so _you_ clearly weren't counting that either. Ergo, second date."

"Fair. And this is the kind of thing you normally ask on a second date?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well you can't ask it on a first date unless you want to run the risk of getting the answer 'this one.' I'm no fool. But you still usually need some kind of icebreaker on a second date."

Castiel leaned toward him, chin in his hand. "Hmm, I think as far as icebreakers go, I preferred smearing come all over each other," he murmured low enough that he wouldn't be overheard by the older couple next to them.

This clearly took Dean by surprise, even after his "crazy sex weekend" comment, and Castiel caught just a glimpse of startled lust in his eyes before he managed to school his features into a smirk.

"This is a classy joint, Cas. I don't think they allow that at the table." He bumped his knee into Castiel's. "Now c'mon, are you going to answer my question or what?"

"Okay, fine, fine." Castiel sat back in his chair, and paused while the waiter brought their drinks. "Luckily, that's an easy one. It was three years ago or so. I'd signed up for some dating website—Anna signed up and somehow dragged me into it with her, and this was my first-ever date with someone who contacted me on it. He was older; I was thirty at the time and he was around thirty-seven or thirty-eight probably, which _will_ be relevant in a moment. But he was attractive and his profile made it sound like he was tired of casual flings and looking for a real, meaningful relationship, which sounds nice enough, right?"

"Sure." Dean shrugged.

"The first, I don't know, half hour or so was fairly normal. There weren't exactly sparks flying," he glanced into Dean's eyes for just a half second, thinking of the sparks that flew from the moment they met, "but he was nice enough. Then he asked me if I wanted to have kids. And I thought, well, not exactly what I would consider first date material, but okay, and I told him sure, someday. And he moved on to talking about something else. Then a few minutes later he asked about it again— how many kids do I want, or something like that. And he just kept coming back around to the topic, over and over. And I was just starting to think, okay, this guy is almost a decade older than me, he's at a different stage in his life, he has different priorities. Still not really a conversation that I, personally, I would ever bring up on the first date, but not batshit crazy."

Dean grinned. "Lemme guess, it got batshit crazy."

"Long story short, it turns out that it was less a date and more of an interview to be his baby daddy."

Dean snorted out a laugh. " _What?_ "

"His _sister_ had agreed to be a surrogate for him. And egg donors are expensive, so it would be her egg as well. But she wasn't young herself, I forget exactly but definitely over 35, so he was worried her fertility was declining and that pregnancy would get more and more risky. But of course, he wasn't actually crazy enough to fertilize his sister's eggs with his own sperm. So he was in a _very, very big hurry_ to find someone he could settle down with who was interested in both conceiving and raising a child with him _immediately_. But that's not even the worst part."

"What, did he want you to knock his sister up the old fashioned way?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively even as he was trying not to giggle.

"No—well, come to think of it, he didn't actually specify the method of conception, so let's not rule that out. No, the worst part is, he _didn't_. When we finished our dinner and he explained all of this to me, he then declared that I was _clearly too immature_ to handle fatherhood. He never actually bothered to ask if I was at all interested in this scheme, just flat-out rejected me as a candidate. And _then_ ," Castiel had managed not to laugh so far during the story, but he finally broke down here, partially out of embarrassment, "to top it off, my first reaction was to be _offended!_ How _dare_ he tell me I'm too immature to raise a child! I'm thirty years old, I have a good career, a career where I work with children for that matter, I've actually _been_ a children's librarian! How dare he! I was fuming the entire drive home, over something I didn't even want! I finally managed to take a step back and remind myself that maybe the opinion of a man who is not only willing but _eager_ to raise a child with someone he just met isn't really worth getting upset over. And then I just felt stupid."

" _Well_ ," Dean said as the waiter brought their appetizers, "I _personally_ believe that the true mark of maturity is definitely a willingness to impregnate a dude's sister after the first date. Speaking of, can I get Anna's number?"

Castiel tried very hard to look offended, but was probably laughing too hard to really pull it off. 

"Oh, sorry," Dean said, looking not sorry at all, "was that whole story _not_ just one big setup for me to joke about banging your sister? Because that's what it sounded like to me."

"I open my heart to you," Castiel finally managed to put on a straight face, "trusting you enough to divulge one of the most _harrowing_ experiences of my _life_ —"

"Oh, it was _harrowing_ now. _Harrowing_."

"—and your only concern is how to exploit that for your own nefarious purposes."

"You get kinda wordy when you're melodramatic, you know that? I like it, you're hot when you're wordy."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "How reassuring to know that if I take advantage of my natural sesquipedalian tendencies I might just stand a chance against my own sister."

"I dunno, does she know a lotta big words, too?" Dean shrugged. "Could be close."

"If it weren't for the fact that _I'm_ the one you're taking to such an expensive restaurant," Castiel pointed out with a smirk, "I might just get jealous."

Dean put a hand on Castiel's knee and his expression softened, the tease falling out of his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but paused for a second, as though catching himself.

"I guess I'm glad I took you here, then." The sincerity in Dean's smile caught Castiel off guard, and whatever comeback he might have been formulating died in favor of returning it.

"So what about you?" He asked, reaching down and tracing Dean's fingers with his own. "I'm assuming you have a standard answer for this if it's a standard question."

"'Course." Dean leaned back in his chair. "So, this was like a decade ago. I was twenty, and look, when I was twenty, going on an actual date was too much commitment most of the time, right? Even though I wasn't a student, I snuck into a lot of KU parties to pick up people and half of 'em we didn't even make it out of the party, although I did have my share of walks of shame out of dorm rooms. But anyhow, I went to a party at some frat or other, and got to talking to one of the usual hot sorority chicks. We made out for a bit, and then I was trying to sweet-talk her out of there. I didn't care whose place, the party was just way too crowded and the frat boys were being assholes about letting anyone who wasn't a brother upstairs where the rooms were.

"But then she stopped me and looked at me all serious, I mean, the kind of serious where drunk people _think_ they're being all serious, right? And she was like, 'We shouldn't just have sex. We should get dinner tomorrow.'" Dean did an impressive impersonation of a drunk girl who thinks she's saying something deep. "And I was like, sure, sweetheart, we'll totally do that, but she, like, grabbed me by the shoulders and got even more drunk-intense and like 'No! Dinner first! We can't do this backwards,' as though that was just unimaginable. So I thought eh, she's actually even hotter than most chicks I take home, maybe taking her out to eat first wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Castiel scoffed. "Obviously a bad idea. Notice how I did not make that mistake with you."

"I was young and naive, okay? So anyhow, I picked her up at her sorority house the next evening and we went out, and then I found out _why_ she thought we should have dinner first. She explained to me that she'd had a _vision_ at the party the night before. I tried to tell her somebody put something in her drink, but she insisted that this isn't the first time. I dunno, she went off on some tangent about how this runs in her family and her grandmother blah blah I don't even know, I tuned that shit out _real_ quick. But apparently, according to this _vision_ , she and I would go out to dinner, then go back to her room to 'make love'—her words, not mine—then by our third date we would be madly in love, and would be ready to get married by the time she graduated, which was like only a few months later."

Castiel's eyebrows were approaching his hairline by this point. "Tell me that's when you walked out of the restaurant."

Dean sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Not exactly. See, I was 20 years old, still hoping to get laid out of this, _and,_ total honesty here, a complete asshole at that age, so I kinda… played along."

"Classy."

"Hey—did I or did I not just admit to being a complete asshole? I made up some shit about my own grandmother—and both of my grandmas died before I was born, I'm sure that lying about your own dead grandma is, like, its own class of sin or something—but I said that my mom's mom had these dreams that came true, so yeah, I _totally_ understand what she means about visions. Unfortunately, once she thought I was into this shit, too? I could not shut her up. You name it, if it's kooky new-age bullshit sold in a pretty book cover, this chick buys it. Past lives, auras, freakin' _angels_ , every type of psychic you can name. She went on and on about some lady who claims to have visions of heaven and wrote like eighty books about it. By the end of it—Jesus, Cas, I am not sure I have ever wanted to have sex with an attractive person my own age less in my _life_. Of course, _she_ still thought we needed to go get it on in order to fulfill the next part of the vision, but I was just like, fuck _no_ am I locking myself in a room alone with you, let alone naked, _let alone_ letting you touch my dick."

"Please tell me you didn't actually say that."

"No I didn't actually say that! Jesus, I said I was an asshole, not a horrible human being. Anyhow, I still had to give her a ride back to her sorority house, and being trapped in the damn car alone with her was bad enough. I let her think I was gonna go in with her and then, like, came up with some bullshit excuse at the last minute. Thank god she didn't have my phone number, didn't know where I lived—who knows how long I woulda been dealing with the aftermath of that."

Castiel smirked, though it was more amused than judgmental. "It would have served you right, trying to take advantage of an innocent young woman using your poor dead grandmother. Even if it didn't happen, that was your plan."

"Fine, when you put it like that, maybe I was kind of a horrible human being." Dean rolled his eyes. "What were you like at twenty?"

Castiel snorted. "Pretentious, mostly. I suppose I can't throw too many stones; if I got into a 'deep' conversation with a cute guy, I had no problem lying my ass off if he asked about some poet or philosopher I knew nothing about." He paused, his eyes going wide as a memory surfaced that he hadn't thought about in years. "Oh. Oh, I'd forgotten about that. I must apologize, Dean. I was a bit of a horrible human being, as well."

"Oh, this I gotta hear." Dean's shit-eating grin was adorable.

"Around that age, I went on a date with a guy who prided himself on his lack of knowledge of popular culture."

"'I don't own a TV' type of hipster?"

"Didn't own a TV, didn't see movies filmed in English, and most importantly, didn't listen to any form of popular music whatsoever. I, um. I may have gotten laid owing mainly to the fact that I passed off the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody as my own poetry."

Dean's laugh startled the couple sitting nearest them. "No way. There's no friggin' _way_ someone fell for that! I see what you're doing. You're trying to get in _my_ pants by makin' shit up now."

"a) I swear to you, it's true. It's possible he could have been the one lying to me, feigning ignorance so that I could think I was seducing him or something, but if so he was an excellent actor. He seemed quite, ah, _deeply moved_ by my poetry. Nearly to tears. b) Why would I bother making that up when I'm quite certain you would let me into your pants right here at this table if I wanted you to?"

Well, that certainly got the smug look off of Dean's face, so Castiel scooped it up and put it on his own. Though he enjoyed the surprise that flashed through Dean's face, he enjoyed even more the want that flashed through it next before Dean managed to get himself under control.

"a) Shut up. b) Shut up. c)…" Dean paused, considering. "Yeah, never mind, I can't even pretend. I would be one hundred percent up for that, actually."

Castiel bumped Dean's knee with his own. "A shame you took me to such a 'classy joint.' I hear they don't allow such things at the table."

The rest of the dinner passed similarly as they traded funny stories, snark, and innuendo. Castiel spent much of the time marveling: at how ridiculously handsome Dean was, at how easily their conversation flowed, at how much they made each other laugh. He'd certainly been on dates with men whose senses of humor (if such existed at all) were clearly not compatible with his, but he'd also been out with men who made him laugh but, later, proved incapable of carrying on a serious conversation. It was nice, he reflected, that they'd had so much time together already so that he knew that every conversation didn't have to be as light as this. It was relaxing to be able to enjoy this without wondering if there was anything to Dean below the surface charm, especially given how powerful that charm could be.

Soon Dean was holding the door open for Castiel as they left the restaurant. Once they were both outside, out of the way of the foot traffic on the sidewalk, Dean stepped in close enough that Castiel couldn't possibly _not_ slide his hands around his waist.

"Did you have something planned for after dinner," Castiel murmured, their faces an inch apart, "or should we just go ahead and start walking back to my apartment?"

"Mmmm, nothin' planned, no," Dean replied, brushing his nose against Castiel's, "I do have to warn you, though—I can't stay very late. I picked up a shift tomorrow since I missed a couple days, so I gotta be out there bright and early."

Castiel was a bit disappointed, but it wasn't exactly unreasonable. Dean was probably paid hourly, and so would have missed two whole days of income to go to the Lit Fest. Given how grateful Castiel was that Dean had, in fact, taken those days off to go, he could get by without spending the night together. And after all, it was only their second date.

"When do you need to go?"

Dean hummed thoughtfully. "I should really go around eleven, but let's say eleven-thirty at the _absolute_ drop-dead latest."

"Oh, that's _hours_ from now," Castiel scoffed. "Let's get going and make the most of them."

The walk home was as pleasant as the walk there, as they compared notes on the details of the meal they'd just had. Dean had loved everything except his salad, which had proved to him that he was definitively _against_ kale.

"But it was green and you tried it anyway. I'm so proud of you, Dean."

"Yeah, last time I make that mistake."

Soon Castiel was showing Dean around his apartment. The living room Dean had already seen, so Castiel led him through it and into the kitchen.

"You don't bake, but it looks like you cook," Dean said, pointing to a rack of pots and pans hung on one wall.

Castiel shrugged. "Nothing fancy, just enough that I don't have to live on takeout and frozen pizzas. I eat an awful lot of tacos, burgers, and stir fry, though. I should probably diversify at some point."

"Dude, I am constantly amazed at the number of guys our age who can't even manage that." Dean grinned at him. "Maybe I should teach you to bake."

The suggestion put a smile on Castiel's face, primarily because of the clear implication that they would be spending more time together. But rather than get into a protracted discussion about cooking and baking, he tugged Dean into the hall.

He pointed out the bathroom, then they went down the hallway, where the doors to Castiel's bedroom and his office were both open. Dean poked his head in the office and glanced around, before Castiel pulled him into the bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, they were kissing. Despite the fact that Castiel had literally just dragged Dean into his bedroom for the sole purpose of having sex, the kiss wasn't nearly as hot and needy as most of their encounters had started out so far. It was soft and slow and explorative, much more a show of affection than simply the first step towards an orgasm. When he walked backwards, tugging Dean toward the bed, it was more for comfort's sake than to move things forward, and Dean seemed to understand that. 

They kept kissing as they lay down, shifting until they were both comfortable. Their hands finally started to wander, but it was still more about the simple joy of getting to touch each other than about getting turned on. Eventually, Dean took off his blazer and started unbuttoning Cas's waistcoat, but even after they were both bare from the waist up they maintained the languid pace, in no rush at all to move things further.

Dean's mouth eventually moved down to Castiel's neck, and then he slowly, _so_ slowly, kissed his way down over shoulders, collarbones, chest, abs. Castiel kept a hand in Dean's hair the entire time, shivering or flexing or moaning lightly with each new press of lips and tongue against his skin. Some kisses were feather-light, some sucking and bruising, some with teeth or a harsh drag of Dean's tongue; he varied his touches such that every one was unexpected and drew a fresh reaction from Castiel.

He made it down to the dusting of hair the led into Castiel's pants, and nuzzled into it before running his tongue across Cas's skin just below his waistband. Castiel was very definitely turned on by this point, and when he moaned and bucked his hips up it wasn't entirely intentional. But when Dean just licked and kissed his way back up his body, Castiel couldn't find it in him to be at all disappointed. There was something addicting about drawing this out, about finding a thousand ways to touch each other before they moved on.

That thought spurred him to slide out from under Dean, then lightly prod him until he was lying on his stomach with Castiel straddling his waist. He smoothed his hands over Dean's back, prompting Dean to hum his approval, then started massaging at the shoulders, working down. He was gratified to find that Dean was very responsive, groaning and sighing with every movement.

When he was approaching the lower back, Dean finally spoke. "Damn, Cas. Hidden talent much?"

"I took a class once. It's not that hard," he laughed. "But I'm glad you approve."

"Hell yeah, I approve. Although this might be too relaxing—keep it up and I might just fall asleep on you."

Castiel hummed as he pressed into the lumbar area. "That's fine if you do. I'd take it as a compliment and wake you up in time for you to go." Then he leaned forward, sliding his hands back up and kissing up Dean's neck to speak in his ear. "Though if you'd rather I kept you awake, I can do that."

The sound Dean made at that was all the confirmation Castiel needed. He started rubbing again, but this time he stayed bent forward, keeping his mouth near Dean's skin. As his hands worked each muscle, he peppered the skin with light kisses and barely-there skims of his lips, or just let his hot breath do the work. He worked his way down again, and as he went he slowly increased the pressure he used with his mouth. Soon the noises Dean was making conveyed an entirely different kind of pleasure than they had in the first part of the massage.

Once he'd worked his way back down to the bottom, he sat up. He slid his hands to the middle of Dean's lower back and started putting gentle waves of pressure on Dean's sacrum. He grinned when, after a few moments, Dean let out a louder moan and fisted his hands in the pillow.

"Fuck, what are you doing back there?"

"The sacral nerve is directly connected to the genitals." Castiel tried not to sound too pleased with himself.

"Exactly what kind of massage class did you take, Cas?"

"No, that I learned on the internet." As he spoke, he slid further down Dean's legs so that he could bend over and slide his tongue along the edge of Dean's pants, just as Dean had done to him earlier. Then he used it to tease at the crack of Dean's ass, just barely visible, while he slid one hand down to massage between Dean's clothed legs.

Dean writhed under him, breathing a restless combination of " _fuck_ "s and moans, finally lifting his hips just enough for Castiel to slide his hands underneath. Cas made quick work of his fly, letting his hands drag over Dean's cock probably more than absolutely necessary as he did.

After he stripped the last of Dean's clothes off, Castiel stood up to get rid of his own pants. Dean rolled to his side and watched, desire clouding his gaze. As soon as Castiel was naked, Dean was grabbing his hand and pulling him back down into a kiss far more heated and hungry than what they'd shared earlier.

This time as they kissed, their wandering hands were rougher, grabbing and clawing instead of softly sliding. They rutted against each other with abandon, their legs slotted together. Now when they gasped or moaned each other's names, there was a pleading note to it, both begging for more.

"What do you want, Cas?" Dean asked. "Just this?"

Castiel barely had to think about his answer. "I want to feel you inside me."

" _Fuck_ yes," Dean moaned as Castiel reached over him to pull the condoms and lube out of the nightstand. 

Castiel soon discovered that Dean liked to keep his mouth busy while his hands were working on loosening Cas up. He didn't go as far as actual rimming, but the entire time he was licking at Castiel's perineum or sucking on his balls or nipping at the insides of his thighs. Cas was thankful that Dean stayed away from his cock, because he wasn't sure he could last through that. Not when Dean was doing such a wonderful job getting him nice and loose and open, and working his prostate masterfully at the same time.

He let Dean take some extra time, both because he knew he'd need it and because the process itself was feeling so good, but eventually he felt too empty even with fingers in him.

"Fuck me, Dean, _god_ I want you."

"I wanna make sure you're—"

Cas pushed himself up on his elbows. " _Now_."

Dean had a glint in his eye as he pulled his fingers out. "Glad to see you're just as bossy on the bottom."

Now that— _that_ sparked something deep inside Castiel. He felt his gaze sharpen and had to fight down the urge to push Dean down, _hold_ Dean down, tell him exactly what was going to happen. And he knew Dean would love it—he could see that Dean was baiting him, trying to provoke him—which made it so much harder to resist. But he didn't want to go back there, not yet. He didn't need to get attached any faster than he already was, because that was already way, way too fast. And if they kept that up, it would only make it worse.

So he just raised an eyebrow and waited patiently as Dean put on the condom and lubed himself up.

And then finally, _finally_ Castiel's legs were wrapped around Dean's waist and Dean was pushing in—slowly, slowly. It burned a little, because no amount of prep is really going to get you ready for a cock that thick, but the pain was quickly overshadowed by how satisfying it felt to be filled up so completely. Then Dean got deep enough to rub across his prostate and the sensations that shot through Castiel's body pushed out any thought of pain.

By the time Dean was all the way in, Cas had managed to relax as much as he needed to. He spent a moment kissing Dean, checking in with his own body to make sure he wasn't going too fast, then he held Dean's face as he pulled back and looked him in eye.

"Fuck me hard, Dean," he said slowly, "I have no other plans this weekend, so I don't care if I can't sit properly until Monday."

"You're a real sweet talker." Castiel was pretty sure Dean was trying to smirk, but he was a little too blissed-out to pull it off.

Luckily, Dean started moving before Castiel could reply. _Never let it be said_ , he thought as Dean slammed into him, _that Dean Winchester cannot follow directions_.

That was pretty much his last coherent thought, because between Dean's size and the angle they happened to be at, there was almost no way to _avoid_ hitting his prostate with every thrust. And Dean did not go easy for a second. Cas arched his back, digging his nails into Dean's shoulders and holding on for dear life. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds he was making, but he knew he was glad that his bedroom was on the other end of the apartment from the wall he shared with the neighbor. He was even less cognizant of the sounds Dean was making, especially given that Dean's face was buried in his neck, but now and then he could make out a "fuck" or his own name.

Later, he would be somewhat impressed that either of them, let alone both, managed to last several minutes before Dean moaned, "I'm so fucking close," and reached down for Cas's dick. Castiel had only barely been clinging to the edge, and Dean didn't even have to stroke him once—just the touch of Dean's hand was enough to send him over. Between the way Dean was still pounding into his prostate and the incredible sensation of clenching around such a thick cock, he was hit with wave after wave of pleasure radiating through his body. He was still spilling long stripes of come when Dean rammed in one last time before throwing his head back and giving an incoherent shout as he came.

Everything was fuzzy for a couple of minutes, until Castiel was snapped out of it by Dean moaning "Oh my _god_ " into his shoulder.

"My sentiments exactly," he replied, still breathing hard, as Dean slid out and fell onto the bed beside him. They lay there for another minute or two, catching their breath, before Castiel reached out to fumble around on the nightstand for a Kleenex before the come started drying on him. As he cleaned himself up, Dean got up to get rid of the condom. He finished just in time for Dean to flop back down, half on top of him.

"Fuck, I have to _drive_ after that?" Dean muttered. Castiel looked up at his alarm clock.

"Not quite yet. I think you've got time to let your heart rate come down, at least."

He tried not to find it hopelessly endearing, the way Dean nuzzled in behind his ear before settling down again, but it was a lost cause. He let the hand that wasn't basically trapped under Dean reach up to trace patterns in the sweat on Dean's back while they just lay there, breathing together.

God, he wished they could just fall asleep like this.

He weighed his options. He was fairly certain that if he tried to convince Dean to spend the night, there was a 25% chance that he would be fine with that and agree, and about a 50% chance that he was too far gone to really care either way and would just pass out. But Castiel finally had to admit to himself that the remaining 25% chance that he would scare Dean off by being too clingy only a week after they met was probably not actually worth the risk. Still. It was tempting.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," Dean said softly, pulling back enough to look at Cas, "I mean, y'know, even before the amazing sex. But that was a lot of fun, too."

Castiel smiled and rolled onto his side to face Dean. "Me, too. Thank you for dinner."

Dean sighed and glanced at the clock. "Man, I really wish I could stay."

He looked sincere enough that Castiel felt emboldened. "So stay. I can set my alarm for as early as you need."

Dean looked pained. "I'm sorry, Cas. I _really_ can't." He leaned forward and gave Castiel a gentle kiss. "I gotta get going. This sucks."

Then he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to start getting dressed. Castiel watched him for a moment, trying not to pout, before sitting up and wondering vaguely where his own boxers had gotten off to.

Dean had gotten his jeans on by the time he located his boxers, and as he was pulling those on, Dean was looking around for his shirt.

"Maybe next time?" Castiel asked with a small grin.

Dean glanced at him before bending down to pick up his shirt. "Yeah, maybe." 

He smiled at Cas as he said it, but something in his eyes said that he wasn't expecting it to happen next time, either. Which was odd, because Castiel was fairly sure that his regret had been sincere.

"If we went out next Saturday night, would that be better?" he offered as he pulled a t-shirt for himself out of his dresser. "If you don't work on Sunday?"

Dean made a face. "I can't next Saturday, I got a family thing. I'd love to see you again on Friday, though." By then he was fully dressed, and he reached out for Castiel as he spoke. 

"Friday then," Castiel replied, letting himself be wound up in Dean's arms and giving him a quick kiss. "I look forward to it. Should I pick you up this time?"

Dean looked startled for a second and he opened his mouth as if to reply, but then he closed it and frowned. "C'mon, you live in Westport, Cas. You don't wanna drive down to Lenexa for a date. All the good stuff is up here. All we've got is chain restaurants and big box stores."

Castiel laughed. "Fair enough. We can meet here again."

Dean leaned in and they kissed again, lingering this time. When they pulled back, Dean kept his forehead pressed against Cas's.

"I wanna stay," he said quietly. Something about his tone made Castiel wonder if something was on his mind beyond a single night's sleepover. He felt a little tendril of hope bloom in his chest, that maybe Dean wanted this to last as much as he did. Maybe Dean wanted to stay in his life for as long as possible. And maybe Dean was as scared to say it as he was. Because that little tendril was not nearly big enough or bold enough to say it out loud and risk being proven wrong.

"Well, you'd better get going if you're going to, or else you may miss your chance. I can't guarantee how much longer I can refrain from pushing you back down onto my bed."

Dean smiled at that. "Fine, fine. Get rid of me."

Castiel walked him to the door, where they kissed one more time.

"Night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean."

Castiel watched him go down the steps toward the parking lot before closing the door behind him and sighing. It was a slightly disappointing end to the evening, yes, but that was far overshadowed by how terrific everything had been until then. And, he thought with a grin as he walked back to his room to read for a bit before bed, he really wasn't going to be able to sit properly the next day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: At dinner, Dean and Cas both laugh about about times in the past when they have told (fairly benign) lies to someone in order to have sex with them. They admit this was a bad thing to do, but still laugh about it.
> 
> Man, you can blame [Just Turn Around and Go](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4228830) for at least a week and a half of the delay on this chapter. :P A week to write it, and another several days to get my mind back into the right gear for this story. Sorry, I was really planning on focusing ONLY on this, but that one just took over my brain for a little while.
> 
> There will probably be a longer delay before the next chapter - I'm going out of town for the next two weeks, so writing will be limited, and when I do write I need to work on my DCBB since it's due in a month! Oh my.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel took it easy the next morning. Let himself sleep in, then lounged around watching TV, lying on his side on the couch because, yeah… he could definitely still feel the previous night's activities.

Around eleven, he thought he heard his phone ringing. He'd left it in his bedroom, so he went in and discovered that apparently he'd already missed one call from Anna and she was trying again.

"Hello Anna."

"There you are! Another hour and I was going to have to stop by and make sure Mr. Sexy Green Eyes didn't turn out to be Mr. Axe Murderer."

Castiel snorted as he wandered back into the living room.

"Hardly. I was just watching TV and didn't hear the phone in the other room." He settled back onto the couch, but with the TV muted.

"Sooooooooo?"

Castiel didn't dignify that with a response. He simply leveled an unimpressed glare at the empty air in front of him where Anna would be and assumed she'd know. He could sense her eyeroll in response.

"How did your date go, brother dearest?" she asked in her best put-upon little sister voice. It wasn't Castiel's fault that older siblings have to become immune to vague wheedling as a survival instinct. He'd had one too many incidents when they were younger when he wound up answering the wrong question and giving her information she hadn't even been looking for… but was all too pleased to get.

"It was wonderful, thank you for asking."

There was a pause.

"…So… he took you out for a fancy dinner?"

"Yes. The food was excellent."

"Oh come on, do I have to ask for one little detail at a time? Can't you ever just talk? You're so moony-eyed over this guy, I can't believe you're not bubbling over wanting to tell me about every little thing he said or did!"

"I have a theory about that."

"Oh?"

"I believe it may have something to do with my not being a fourteen-year-old girl." This was not something he would be willing to say to Anna's face, but she couldn't throw anything at him over the phone.

"Oh please, Castiel. I have seen you go through so many men. And when you've got it bad, you can't keep your mouth shut about the guy. This is the first time I have seen you _this_ far gone and yet so tight-lipped all the time! The only time you actually _want_ to tell me anything is when you need reassurance! What's different?"

Castiel stopped for a second to consider this. He knew she was right; all protestations aside, he _had_ often borne a distinct resemblance to a teenage girl at a slumber party when talking to Anna about men he was dating. He had a good idea what was different.

"Maybe I just don't want to jinx it."

"Not buying _that_ for a second."

He sighed. "Anna, you know I'm… jumpy now, for lack of a better word. I'm trying very hard not to be paranoid after what Bartholomew did, but it's difficult. That experience scarred me, I think worse than I realized at the time. And now, I suppose… It's almost as though I don't want to gush and say all these wonderful things, and then look stupid if it all goes wrong. Because more than anything, I felt _stupid_ for falling for Bartholomew's lies. You know already that my feelings for Dean are, well… probably stronger than they should be for someone I've barely known for a week. If I don't tell you much about him or what we do together, then when he turns around and tells me he never felt the same way, that's less I have to feel stupid about. I don't have to wonder if you've been thinking that this whole time, if every time I described a date to you that _I_ thought went well, you were thinking to yourself, 'oh, poor thing, he doesn't even realize how badly it went, I'd better not burst his bubble.'"

"You really think that?" Anna sounded upset enough that Castiel almost felt guilty. "That's honestly, seriously how you feel?"

"Yes," he says softly. "It's not rational, and it's not because I think poorly of you. But public humiliation can apparently do strange things to the psyche."

"Okay," she says, her voice gentle but not patronizing, "let's make a deal. I swear to you, Castiel, that I will be brutally honest in my assessment of your relationship with Dean. Or any others in the future. I will not say things just to make you feel better, and I will let you know if I think you're misreading his signals or anything like that. I don't want to see you hurt like that again either, big brother, and I also don't want you letting that experience interfere with your life. And if I can help with both of those things by being an unfiltered second opinion, I will do that. But in exchange, you've got to open up a little, okay?" 

Castiel can just see the doe eyes she's giving him.

"All right. I'll try to be more forthcoming with details, and trust you to tell me if you think my perception of the situation is skewed."

"You do realize that I've already been giving you my unfiltered opinion this whole time, right? You don't truly believe that I've been saying all this stuff just to make you feel better?"

"Yes, Anna. I know that. But… it does help to hear you say explicitly that that is what you are doing. The irrational part of me appreciates it." Castiel smiles, reminded yet again why his sister is also basically his closest friend.

"So let's start over. How did your date go?"

Castiel bit his lip, trying to decide exactly how much detail she needed.

"It was great. I was a bit nervous beforehand, honestly. Somehow I thought… maybe we were just swept up in the excitement and romance of this weekend fling. Maybe that chemistry wouldn't carry over into the real world."

"A reasonable worry. And did it?"

Castiel could feel a smile spreading across his face, just thinking about opening the door and seeing Dean last night.

"It did. It really, really did." He grimaced as she squealed. "Anyhow, we walked to the restaurant, which was nice. I'm glad I live in a part of town where I'm not too worried about holding hands with another man. I'm sort of wondering how it will be if I ever go to his neighborhood. Lenexa isn't exactly a bastion of left wing ideology."

Anna snorted.

"Anyhow, the food was amazing, as you would expect. And we talked, and it was… just really easy. We didn't talk about anything serious, just ridiculous topics, but it was never awkward, no uncomfortable pauses while we struggled to come up with something else to say."

"That sounds great, Castiel. And now you know for a fact that I am not just saying that." Castiel rolled his eyes. "So what'd you do after dinner?"

"Well, we… came back here, basically."

"Like, he dropped you off came back there, or he came inside and had some coffee before going home came back there, or, like… you guys _came_ back there?" She snickered at her own awful joke.

"You are a horrible sister and you should feel bad about yourself." Castiel glared at the space in front of him where Anna wasn't again.

"You know I'm just teasing—"

"I wasn't talking about teasing me about sex, I was talking about subjecting me to that pun."

"Shut up, that was hilarious," Anna pouted.

"Not really. It was, however, accurate."

"Well, then! I guess you really are done holding out on me."

"Let me know if I upset your delicate sensibilities. Yes, yes, we came back here and had sex. Really, _really_ good sex."

"That seems to be a running theme," Anna said somewhat archly. "So you were just watching TV when I called earlier, huh? All alone?"

Castiel grunted as he got up off the couch. "Yes, I really was. He didn't spend the night. He had to work early today. Had to be in Lawrence by 6:30."

"Ew. Holy Crap."

"Yes. I probably kept him up too late as it was." Castiel poked around in his refrigerator until he found his Britta pitcher and pulled it out.

"I bet you did." He could hear her eyebrows wiggling suggestively and rolled his eyes as he poured himself some water. "So how are you feeling about this whole thing now? Sounds like maybe you're a little less freaking out about it than you were the other day?"

"I think so." He started to sit down at the kitchen table with his water, remembered at the last second that a hard wooden chair was probably a bad idea, and headed back into the living room. "I still… Well, my feelings for him aren't exactly fading, let's put it that way. But I think I'm starting to feel a bit more confident that he… not necessarily that he feels exactly the same, but that he honestly wants to pursue this as much as I do."

"I'm guessing nobody said the r-word or the b-word last night, though."

Castiel eased himself back down on the couch with a strategically-placed pillow. "The what or the what?"

Anna made an exasperated sound. "Relationship? Boyfriend?"

"No, of course not," Castiel said, a little annoyed that she was bringing this up when he was trying not to think about it. "I've still only known him for a week, we're still in creepy clingy territory if I tried to push that."

"But that's what you want. You just don't want him to know that you want it."

"Exactly."

"Oh good lord, Castiel. You just said you think he wants this as much as you do!"

"But that doesn't mean—he could want this to develop into that without wanting it to happen immediately." Even as he said it, Castiel knew that it sounded like an excuse for him to hide behind. But it was _true_.

"Okay. I'm supposed to be helping you avoid another Bartholomew situation, right? So here's my question to you: Exactly how long are you willing to wait before you ask for what you want? At what point will you feel like you're being strung along if he doesn't want to commit?"

Castiel sighed. It'd been a _week_. He didn't need to decide this yet, did he? But he knew Anna was just following through on the brutal honesty he'd asked of her. "I think... those are different questions with different answers," he said carefully. "I could imagine telling him that I'm interested in an exclusive relationship while also being okay with it if he says he needs a little more time."

"Would you _really_ be okay with it, though?"

"Mostly, yes, depending on how he reacts. Obviously, if I brought it up and it seemed like he had no intention of taking our relationship in that direction, I would need to end it rather than follow him around like a hurt puppy, lapping up sad scraps of affection whenever I could get a date with him." God, that sounded pathetic. He wouldn't do that again. Would he?

"Oh, please, please don't ever do that."

"At the time I didn't _think_ that's what I was doing with Bartholomew. But looking back, it sort of was." He snorted, trying not to be disgusted with himself. "But if Dean really seemed sincerely interested in going in that direction, but for whatever reason wanted to take it a little slower, I could be open to that. Within reason. I doubt I'd be willing to wait six months, for example"

"Fair enough. So the first part, though? You think a week is too soon, that's probably true. When will it not be too soon anymore?"

"Why do I have to decide this now, Anna?"

"So that when you hit that deadline and are still trying to talk yourself into accepting less than you want, I have leverage to browbeat you into submission! I mean, to convince you that you deserve better," she corrected herself sweetly.

He did have to laugh at that. And maybe she had a point. Maybe the only way to truly put Bartholomew behind him was to be proactive in making sure it didn't happen again. He sighed.

"A month? Is that reasonable?"

"A month is supremely reasonable. I don't think anyone could possibly think it strange if you want to talk about being exclusive after a month of dating."

"Okay. Fine. If it doesn't come up before then, then I will bring it up myself in… well, I suppose it's three weeks now. Assuming we're still seeing each other then." That did sound reasonable. Didn't it?

"Okay, can I ask one other question? And don't take this the wrong way?"

Castiel frowned. That certainly didn't sound good. "… Yes?"

"Have you considered… y'know… maybe being in the same room with him for a couple hours and _not_ fucking his brains out?"

Castiel continued frowning. What kind of question was that? "We have been in the same room many times—"

" _Alone_ , Castiel. Not out in public. It sounds like so far, every time you've been alone you've gone straight to sex."

"The first night we were together, we talked for _hours_ before anything happened."

"Okay, good. But it _did_ happen."

"Of _course_ it happened, that's sort of the point of a one night stand. Which is what this was originally intended to be."

"Oh please, if you talk for several hours before getting naked it's pretty clearly not a one night stand anymore."

"Okay, yes, by that point it was unlikely that we wouldn't spend more time together. But still, the point stands, we did not go straight to sex."

"Okay! Great! But you wanted my opinion, so here it is. I'm a little worried that if you guys spend half your time in bed every time you go out, that's not going to be… good for you."

Castiel gritted his teeth. He _did_ ask for this, he reminded himself. She wasn't just being a prying little sister for no reason. "It's not like it's just meaningless sex, Anna—"

"Exactly! I know it's not! And here _you_ are, worried that you're falling in love with this guy too fast, and I bet every time you have sex with him you get more attached. I know you, Castiel. I know that you can do the no-strings-attached one-time thing no problem. But I also know that once you start sleeping with someone more regularly than, like, twice, you… get emotional about it quickly. I guarantee that however you _sounded_ when you told me earlier that you two went back to your place for sex, if I'd been there to see you you would have had stars in your eyes. It's either totally meaningless or super, super meaningful for you. Which is great, that's a totally fine way to be, but… maybe it'd be a good idea to slow that down just a _little_ with Dean if you're already not totally comfortable with how you feel about him?"

Castiel looked down at his water glass, running his thumb along the rim and chewing his lip. How the fuck did his sister know him so well? This was what happens when you tell someone too much about your love life—they get better at analyzing it than you do. Because she was right. He thought back to every time he and Dean had had sex, and it was pretty obvious that every time, even the first time, he'd fallen a little more for Dean. Sometimes a lot more. And he thought that, at least some of the time, it had meant that much to Dean, too.

And she was certainly right that he didn't really want a reason to fall in love with Dean Winchester any faster than he already was. He didn't think the process could be slowed any, not if things kept going the way they were going, but it might not be a bad idea to avoid accelerating it. On the other hand, so far the sex was fucking incredible. All emotions aside, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much _physical_ chemistry with someone. He'd have to think about it more.

"I see your point, Anna. And I will take it into consideration."

"That's all I ask."

They chatted for a few more minutes, thankfully not about Castiel's love life. One of the other copy editors at the website Anna worked for had quit unexpectedly, leaving her with a heavier workload until a replacement was hired, and she had plenty of complaining to do about that.

After they hung up, he managed to get showered and dressed, ate some lunch. Then he printed out the day's New York Times crossword and spread back out on the couch to do it.

Ten minutes later, his phone rang again. He sighed and glanced at it. A voice Skype call from Balthazar. He dithered for a few seconds before rejecting the call and going back to the puzzle.

A few minutes later, he finished filling in the grid and grabbed his phone, calling Balthazar back.

"Cassie! There you are!"

"Sorry, I was in the middle of a crossword." Castiel refused to sound sheepish. Balthazar wouldn't be offended he'd been sidelined for a puzzle.

Balthazar laughed. "Oh my god, are you still timing yourself on those?"

"Yes, I'm still timing myself," he said. "Still not fast enough to hold my own against the people who do it competitively."

"So how did you do, then? Was it worth ignoring your best friend in the whole world?"

"Seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds, which includes about ten seconds or so rejecting your call, and no, actually, I had a full conversation with Anna about an hour ago and didn't have to ignore her at all for this."

"Oh, that hurts. How is your beautiful sister?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Some annoyances at work, but other than that, she's fine. Probably still not interested, before you ask."

"Sadly, even I cannot afford the airfare necessary to woo a beautiful woman from across the Atlantic."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the only thing standing between you and Anna after a decade of indifference on her part." Castiel could banter with Balthazar about this kind of thing all day. But he knew that eventually they'd get to the topic of Dean, and he needed to decide which details to divulge. Unlike Anna, Balthazar was not someone he should get into the more sappy side of his feelings with. No, Balth would only care about the fact that Castiel is getting laid. In face, he would probably demand quite a few more vulgar details than Anna would ever want to hear.

"So how did Chicago go? I seem to remember you having your pick of hot twinks last year, still true?"

Castiel had to laugh. Apparently much harder than Balthazar was expecting.

'Why on earth is that so funny?"

"Sorry, just—" He worked to get his giggles under control, but they continued to bubble up while he explained. "If there is one thing that Dean very definitely is _not_ , it's a twink."

"Dean?" Balthazar drew the name out, turning it into a salacious question.

"Yes. Dean is the man that I met in Chicago this year."

"So a bear, then? Oh, Cassie, I had no idea you were into that. You've been holding out on me! I should've introduced you to—"

" _No_ , no. He's just… he's just a man. He's quite masculine and well-built, but with surprisingly delicate features. _Ridiculously attractive_ features. Don't think bear or twink, think Calvin Klein model." Castiel knew he sounded a bit smug, but why not? Even he was a bit impressed he managed to land a guy who looked like Dean. And if there was one person he could brag about it to, it was Balthazar.

"Now _that_ sounds like your type."

"This man is _everyone's_ type, Balth. And yes, I'll send you a picture when we get off the phone."

" _Please_ tell me you've got one of him naked."

"If I did, I would not share it with you."

"You're a horrible friend."

"No, I'm a good—" He stopped himself far too suddenly. He'd almost said _boyfriend_ , but he definitely could not claim that title yet. He needed to be more careful about that; slipping up in front of Dean would be incredibly embarrassing.

"Person," he finished lamely. But he knew it wouldn't fool Balthazar.

It didn't.

"I'm sorry, a good _what_?"

"I said I'm a good person, Balthazar. One who doesn't spread around nudes of the men he's slept with." Hopefully if he was defensive enough Balthazar would just leave it alone. But who was Castiel kidding? When it came to his sex life, Balthazar could sniff out a lie, half-truth, or omission like a bloodhound, and hang onto it like a pit bull.

"But that's not what you were _going_ to say." He could just see the smile on Balthazar's face, the one that says he knows he's about to get whatever dirt it is he really wants. "Don't even try to tell me that you didn't stop yourself from saying something else. Hmmmm, what else could you be to this man? Let me think…"

" _Fine_." Cas knew it was a lost cause. "I almost said boyfriend, but that would not be accurate. We are not yet in an exclusive relationship."

"Not _yet_. I see. Exactly how many times did you shag this man, Cassie? He must have been incredible in the sack if you're contemplating, what, some kind of long-distance thing with him?"

"Let's see, I believe in Chicago…" Castiel thinks for a moment. "I believe you could safely say we had some form of sex four times while in Chicago. Then once more last night in my bedroom." He smirks and lets Balthazar answer his own implied second question.

"Ahhh, I see, he's a local boy. Convenient. And four times in one weekend, that's quite a respectable showing. What are we talking here, Friday night to Sunday, or…?"

"We met at a bar around 9pm on Saturday, but didn't get started on actual sex until late, I don't remember exactly but it was definitely well past midnight. And he gave me a quick blowjob early Monday morning, sevenish? So let's say four times in thirty-one hours. Huh." He raised his eyebrows. "Even I am impressed with myself. And Dean. And believe me, Balth, there's a lot to be impressed with there."

"I agree, that is a _very_ respectable showing. Good on you, Cassie! Now, this Dean fellow, what type of impressive are we talking? Details, Cassie, I need details."

Castiel smirked. Okay, so maybe this bragging thing could be fun. Especially when it was Dean he was bragging about and not himself, except by extension. "Pick a way, Balthazar, and trust me, it applies. I've been lounging around on the couch all day because I don't want to sit upright after last night."

"Oh, now, that's not very detailed," Balthazar chided.

"I don't fuck and tell?" He tried.

Balthazar laughed. "Castiel Novak, I have known you for fifteen years and I know for a fact that that is _not_ true. At least not with me, it isn't."

"What would you do without me to fuel your vulgar fantasies, Balthazar?"

"I'm sure I don't know, but you're not doing anything to fuel anything right now, Castiel. So, Dean. I take it he's well-hung?"

"Yes. Jesus christ, yes. Last night was the first time I bottomed, and it is going to take some getting used to. Not that I exactly encouraged him to be gentle about it."

"Good to hear it. I'd be really worried if we were talking about some sort of soft, tender act that might uncharitably be called 'lovemaking.' Please tell me there's been none of that nonsense."

Castiel had known Balthazar for a very long time, and knew that this was his way of asking how serious it was, whether there were any feelings involved. He wouldn't want to actually _hear_ about the feelings, but he wasn't an absolutely horrible friend; he wanted to know where things stood.

"Not sure I can say there's been none of that," Castiel replied, thinking back to the slow, exploratory kisses, to massaging Dean's back. "Who says you can't have both in one night?"

"Ugh. You're disgustingly sentimental, Cassie. I thought you were better at this one night stand thing."

Castiel laughed. "I just finished telling you all about the touchdown I scored and you're telling me I'm playing baseball entirely wrong."

"Did you just make a sports metaphor? What the hell did this man do you?"

"The sports don't matter," Castiel sighed. "I'm just saying that this is not a one night stand and cannot be judged by the same standards. And that's not sentimental, that's just saying that I will not willingly keep this man out of my bed anytime soon, nor will I be putting any limits on what type of sex is allowed. Soft and tender is absolutely an option. _Anything_ is an option. Trust me, when you see his photo you'll agree."

"Very well, I will take your word for now. But, Castiel," Balthazar's voice grew quiet and serious, a dangerous edge to it. "If this man breaks your heart, I will, I truly will be on the next flight back to the States and I will _filet_ him and grill him up for one of those insipid barbecue holidays you people insist on having. Allowing you to talk me into refraining from doing something similar to Bartholomew was a mistake I will not repeat."

"Thank you, Balthazar. That was… extremely creepy, but thank you nonetheless."

"So how is he at giving head?"

Castiel gave Balthazar a few more sordid details before they hung up. After they did, he sighed and looked at his phone wistfully. The truth was, he had yet to fill the gaping hole that had been left in his social life when his best non-Anna friend had moved back to England three months before. They'd met at college, at MU. Balthazar was there on some kind of international scholarship, and neither of them ever figured out how he'd had the bad luck to wind up in Missouri of all places. After they graduated, Balth had spent a couple of years living in all the largest, most cosmopolitan places the US had to offer—New York, LA, San Francisco, Miami. When Castiel moved to Chicago for his Master's two years later, Balthazar had made sure he conveniently wound up there, as well. Having apparently gotten whatever it was out of his system, he then followed Castiel back to Kansas City and had been there ever since. Until recently.

Castiel had long since grown complacent, used to being dragged to more concerts, bars, clubs, and parties than he really cared to go to. Not that Balth did nothing but party; as they got older, there were fewer raves and more gallery openings. Castiel didn't realize until it was too late that he really should have spent more time actually connecting with the people he met at these events and cultivating new friendships instead of finding random hookups but otherwise being a consummate introvert.

Then, back in March, Balthazar had been offered a position in London that he couldn't possibly pass up. And suddenly Castiel found himself watching far more Netflix than he would ever have thought reasonable. He'd tried both online dating and meetup.com, but so far neither of them had netted him much. 

He was definitely hoping that he might manage to fill some of these holes with Dean. Even seeing him once a week would make a significant dent.

He tried to tell himself that if that was all he could get, it would be enough. It would be more than he had now, wouldn't it?

Even he did not find himself convincing.

—

He exchanged a few texts with Dean that evening and the next day, but not much more than small talk. So he was surprised when his phone rang around 9:30pm Sunday night and Dean's name was displayed.

"Hello, Dean," he said, hoping he didn't sound _quite_ as happy to hear from him as he really was.

"Hey, Cas. Uh, am I calling at an okay time? I can call back if I need to, or we can just text or whatever—"

"I have this magical invention known as a pause button. I can make the ladies of Orange is the New Black go right back to having lesbian sex anytime I want."

"… Wait, seriously? I thought Charlie just told me it was full of that to trick me into watching it."

"It's set in a women's prison, Dean," Castiel said, amused. "what else would it be full of? I'm sure it's probably more interesting if you find any of them attractive, but I can appreciate watching people having a good time."

"And now I'm imagining watching this show with you. Not what I was planning for this phone call, but hey, not a bad result."

Castiel smiled. Not a bad result, no. "So what _were_ you planning for this phone call, then?"

"Hang on, hang on, still imagining watching the lesbian sex with you."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, laughing, "you clearly don't wish to be disturbed. I should probably just go then…"

"Okay, okay, I'm done. I'm done! Nah, I was just calling 'cause, uh." The confidence seeped back out of Dean's voice. "So, I've got a dentist appointment on Tuesday? At eleven. And it's, uh, kinda over near where you work. I mean—I mean, my dentist isn't downtown, but it's in KCK, which is a helluva lot closer to downtown than Lawrence, or even Lenexa. Anyhow, the point is, do you wanna get lunch maybe? On Tuesday?"

Castiel was grinning widely, partially due to how adorable Dean was when he was nervous and flustered and partially due to the fact that asking Cas out was making him nervous and flustered at all, despite the fact that they already had a date scheduled for Friday.

"That would be great, Dean. I'll check my schedule tomorrow and let you know when I should be free for lunch. Although," he teased, "are you sure you'll be able to eat? What if you have a cavity and they have to do horrible things to your mouth?"

"Are you kidding me?" Accepting his invitation was all it took for Dean's playful cockiness to return. "Have you seen my teeth? These babies are perfect. I just go in once a year so Rufus can tell me how awesome they are."

"Rufus?"

"Oh. Yeah, the dentist is actually a family friend. Old buddy of Bobby's. That's why I go see him up in KCK instead of someone closer to home. Anyhow, uh, yeah. So, I guess I'll see you Tuesday, then?"

"It's a date. Do you have someplace in mind where you'd like to meet?"

"I figured I'd stop by the library and we can figure it out from there. Is that okay?"

Castiel smiled. It was silly, it was _ridiculous_ , but he liked the idea of his coworkers seeing him with Dean. "That would be perfect."

"Awesome. Just lemme know when to show up."

"I will." There was a pause, which stretched out into a possibly-but-not-really-awkward silence. Cas chewed on his bottom lip, suppressing the things he wanted to say. _Come over now. Or I can go there. Just please please touch me instead of just talking to me._ Then his mind started to wander a bit… _Or… touch yourself. While talking to me. What are you wearing?_

He snorted.

"What?" Dean asked, sounding more amused than suspicious.

Castiel swallowed and tried to form sentences that would convey his thought processes without being blatantly obvious about it.

He failed.

"Well, we haven't really talked on the phone much, and I like hearing your voice and—phone sex. I was thinking about phone sex."

The burst of laughter on the other end of the line was well worth the embarrassment.

"That's awesome. But hey—should I be offended that it made you snort like that?"

"No, don't worry. I was imagining _myself_ using a cheesy line. I am sure you would never do such a thing." He hastened to change the topic. "So what were _you_ thinking about?"

"Uh… real sex?" Dean sounded chagrined at the admission. Castiel was delighted.

"Oh, really?" Cas heard his own voice drop in register. It wasn't intentional, but he hoped it had an effect anyhow. "Care to explain in more detail?"

"Dude, you're really angling for the phone sex, aren't ya?" Dean was going for teasing, but was clearly aroused as well.

_In for a penny_ … Castiel thought. "Real would work, too."

"Oh, so now you're trying to turn this into a booty call."

"You brought it up, not me," he pointed out.

Dean groaned. "Dude, if I did not have to be up at five AM tomorrow, I would be so tempted."

"I'd call you a tease, but overall your record on followthrough is quite good. I'll let this one slide."

"Generous of you. Ugh, but seriously, I do need to get to bed. I'll see you on Tuesday, okay?"

"See you then. Good night, Dean."

"'Night, Cas."

Castiel was smiling when he got off the phone, but sighed. Maybe Anna was right. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with wanting a lot of sex with a new partner, especially when the partner was incredibly attractive and the sex was incredibly good. But they apparently couldn't even have a phone conversation without going there… Which, again, not necessarily a bad thing, in and of itself. But she was definitely right about sex fueling his emotional attachment, so maybe slowing it down just a _little_ wouldn't be a bad thing, either. Not that he really thought that spending time alone with Dean doing things other than having sex _wouldn't_ result in more attachment, honestly.

Either way, a lunch date would almost certainly not involve sex, so no reason to worry about it yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was 7K into this chapter and still had a bunch to write, and felt like I was speeding through stuff just to get the damn thing finished already. So I finally decided to end the chapter way earlier, splitting 1200 words' worth of what I'd already written off into the next chapter. Instead you get the Chapter of the Three Phone Calls.
> 
> Unfortunately, it might be a while again before that chapter is finished, because now I need to go do DCBB rewrites. I'm guessing Museum of Broken Relationships will update sooner, though, given that the chapters for that one are like little tiny baby chapters compared to the ones for this fic. They're chapters for ants.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : Homophobic language and harassment.
> 
> Hello! Sorry for the enormous delay - even once I got back to this story, this chapter was like pulling teeth. It just did not want to come out. Then once I finally finished a draft, I got sick, and then was (still am) traveling... It's just been a mess, guys. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Big thanks to [sciencejargon11](http://sciencejargon11.tumblr.com) for giving this chapter a beta read. On her advice, the last 2K or so got moved to the next chapter - and that scene is a bit of a mess anyhow, so putting off editing it until the next chapter sped up editing of this chapter. :)
> 
> I _promise_ it will not be another four months before the next update - but then, I probably also won't post ~88K of other stuff before the next update, either. :)

Tuesday morning Castiel tried to keep busy so that he wouldn't watch the clock and wait for it to tick toward noon. Something about his demeanor must have given it away, though.

"You're awfully chipper," Hannah observed with a small smile. He'd barely seen her the previous day, so he hadn't gotten to say a word about Dean. "Does that mean your date went well this weekend? Tell me about it at lunch?"

"I cannot tell you about it at lunch," he said, "because Dean is coming by and I'm having lunch with him today."

The smile spread across her face. "Things must really be going well with him."

"So far, so good, yes."

"Well, I look forward to hearing more over lunch _tomorrow_ , then," she said as she scooped up a pile of books and walked off.

At noon, he headed toward the Information desk, where he'd told Dean to meet him. As soon as the desk came into sight, he saw Dean leaning on it, talking to Hannah. She saw Castiel first and waved, which caused Dean to look up. He straightened up when he saw Cas.

"Hey, Cas," he said, and _dear god_ his smile. Castiel had to admit, he'd never seen Dean smile at anyone else quite the way he smiled at Cas. Dean tended to be flirtatious with servers (and, well, almost anything that moved), but his standard "turning on the charm" smile was worlds away from the soft smile that he only ever seemed to aim at Castiel. Maybe Anna had been onto something.

"I was just telling Dean that he should make you take him to that cafe down the street," Hannah said as he approached. Castiel frowned.

"Cafe down the street?"

Hannah's brow furrowed. "You know, the one we go to all the time?"

Cas squinted at her. "Do you mean the _bakery_ down the street?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "They have cute little tables and they serve food. That's a cafe."

"They serve _baked goods_ ," Castiel said slowly, still half-wondering if they were talking about the same place.

"And coffee! And those croissants with cheese and ham and spinach and things in them make a perfectly good lunch." She straightened and looked Dean in the eye. "It's a cafe, and you should go there."

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas. "So if it's a bakery, does that mean they have pie?"

Castiel laughed. "You want pie for lunch?"

"Dude. I _always_ want pie. It is a testament to my maturity and willpower that I do not eat pie for lunch every single day. Also breakfast."

"I guess that settles it," Castiel said with a fond smile. They said goodbye to Hannah and headed toward the door.

"Oh—I'm just going to stop in the bathroom on the way out," Castiel said as they passed by the restrooms near the exit. "I'll just be a minute?"

"No problem," Dean said, and leaned on the wall next to the men's room. 

As Cas went into the bathroom, he heard Dean's phone ring. It so happened that the wall separating the restrooms from the rest of the entry lobby was notoriously paper thin. Even though Castiel deliberately chose the urinal farthest from the wall so as not to eavesdrop, it was still only a few feet away and he could hear every word Dean said.

"Hey, Cassie," Dean said, clearly trying to keep his voice hushed. Interesting. Castiel hadn't ever heard him mention anyone named Cassie.

"Yeah, I was just calling before to see if you could make it to my house an hour earlier on Saturday."

Castiel froze. Dean had said he had a 'family thing' on Saturday and so couldn't go out that day. He'd spoken about his family, both blood and adopted, quite extensively and never mentioned anyone named Cassie. Castiel felt a twinge of guilt as he delayed turning on the sink so as to hear more.

"Awesome, yeah. …Yeah, exactly." Dean's tone didn't give much away. He didn't sound excited or fond, exactly, but he certainly seemed glad to hear from this person. "Okay, great, see you then!"

That seemed to be the end of the short conversation, so Castiel went ahead and washed his hands, hoping that Dean wouldn't notice that the timing of the faucet turning on coincided with the end of his telephone call (the paper thin thing went both ways, after all). As he washed, he took a deep breath. There was no reason to think that Dean had told him about everyone who might be at a 'family thing.' And it wasn't like he'd said it _wasn't_ at his house, so he might just be telling everyone to come over earlier than planned.

As with the girl in the coffee shop, who _may or may not have been Cassie and if she was then maybe that's just proof that she was a family member and not a date_ , Castiel couldn't really ask Dean about it directly without sounding creepy, insecure, or most likely both. And no matter what, Dean was here with him now. Dean had asked him for an additional date even though they'd already planned to do something Friday night. That was what actually mattered, and Castiel would just have to push anything else out of his head for the moment.

By the time they made it to the bakery, which even billed itself as a bakery so he really didn't know what Hannah was thinking, he had actually managed to do so. Dean took his hand as soon as they were away from the library; points definitely scored for not attempting any sort of even mild PDA at Cas's workplace. Out on the street was fine. Downtown wasn't exactly Westport—plenty of stuffy conservative suits around—but they were more the fiscal conservative types who didn't give two shits what anyone did in bed rather than the pearl-clutching church moms he expected lived in Dean's Johnson County neighborhood. 

So they'd walked down the street holding hands, and Dean kept looking at him as they talked with this little smile on his face, and running his thumb over Cas's hand like just holding hands wasn't enough but he didn't want to do more in the middle of the sidewalk, and generally by the time they made it to the bakery Castiel couldn't have given less of a fuck about Cassie or what her plans for Saturday were.

There were four pies on display under the glass when they got there: cherry, strawberry rhubarb, french silk, and lemon meringue. Before Dean could dither over them for more than a few seconds, Castiel bought a slice of each. They shared the pie, each taking random bites from the slices spread across their little table while chatting about their jobs and exchanging all manner of flirtatious glances.

Pie eaten and coffee drunk, Dean took Cas's hands when they got back out on the sidewalk.

"My car's actually parked the other way from here, and I really gotta get headed back toward Lawrence…"

Castiel smiled and pulled him closer.

"Will I still see you on Friday?"

"Dude," Dean said, sliding his hands up to Cas's biceps, "after you fed me that much pie? Good luck keeping me away."

He leaned in for a gentle kiss, and it was all Castiel could do to remember that they were out in public, in the middle of the day, mere blocks from his workplace. It would probably not do to grab Dean's waist and pull him as close as humanly possible.

He managed not to do exactly that, and soon he and Dean were walking away in different directions. He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he headed back to work, and what he'd overheard in the bathroom was the furthest thing from his mind.

—

**To: Dean**  
So, about Friday.

**From: Dean**  
Yeah?

**To: Dean**  
I'm trying to decide what we should do.

**From: Dean**  
LOL You scared me! I thought you were gonna cancel.

**To: Dean**  
No, no!  
I just wanted some input.

**From: Dean**  
Cool. I can do that.

**To: Dean**  
I have two ideas. Are you more in the mood for something a bit fancy again, or more informal?  
I think both would be fun.

**From: Dean**  
Probably the informal one?  
Unless it's bowling.  
Just FYI, I hate bowling.

**To: Dean**  
Luckily, it wasn't bowling, but I'll keep that in mind.  
Have you ever been to Up/Down?

**From: Dean**  
I have no idea what that is.

**To: Dean**  
It's a video game bar on Southwest Boulevard.

**From: Dean**  
A VIDEO GAME BAR IS A THING THAT EXISTS?

**To: Dean**  
It's basically an arcade with alcohol.

**From: Dean**  
Sold.

—

Luckily, since it was only 6:30 when they got there, the bar wasn't too crowded yet and there wasn't a huge wait for most of the games.

"Dude," Dean exclaimed immediately, grinning, and dragged Castiel right over to a line of Skee-Ball machines.

"Best of five rounds, loser buys dinner," Dean said when they got there. He was practically wiggling at Cas's side with excitement.

"I was planning on buying dinner anyhow," Castiel pointed out.

"So great, you've got nothing to lose. Which is good for you, because I am the fucking Skee-Ball _master_." Dean grinned again as he dropped a quarter in his lane.

Castiel squinted at him, not yet starting up his lane. "You said you hated bowling."

Dean turned to him slowly, a look of horror on his face. " _Cas_. This is not bowling. This is Skee-Ball. Totally, completely different game. Nothing in common. Now, you gonna face your inevitable defeat like a man or what?"

Castiel couldn't help chuckling at Dean's enthusiasm as he dropped a coin into his own lane and the balls rolled down into their positions.

As it turned out, Castiel won their first round, with a score of 220 to Dean's 200.

"Don't worry, my arm's all warmed up now," Dean assured him as they dropped in the coins for their second round.

As promised, Dean won the next three rounds in a row, all with scores in the high 200s to low 300s. Castiel never broke 250.

"Shall we play the fifth round anyhow, as your victory lap?" Cas asked, poking Dean in the side.

"Hell yes," he replied, and beat Cas yet again.

By that point, Castiel was getting hungry, so they grabbed burgers from a food truck outside and took them up to the roof deck, where they watched people playing an enormous game of Jenga while they ate and chatted about their video game experiences growing up. Castiel's father didn't approve of video games as a general rule, but that hadn't stopped Gabriel from buying a few consoles behind his back. Castiel had played them only occasionally, usually when he was home alone with Anna and Purah and they begged him. It wasn't until college and Balthazar's brief Halo obsession that he'd spent any real amount of time playing. Dean, of course, hadn't been able to afford consoles, but had spent a lot of time keeping Sam distracted from their problems by taking him to the local arcade. The only thing they ever had at home was a used Super Nintendo Bobby had gotten them for Christmas when Dean was in middle school, with a handful of games. Lisa, however, had been a Wii addict, so Dean had one of those at home with an extensive library.

After eating, they headed back into the main arcade room and started making their way through the games. They found all the multiplayer games they could play together first, and when they ran out of those they tried some pinball. It turned out Dean was even better at pinball than Skee-Ball, but when space opened up on the console at the projector screen, Castiel managed to kick his ass at Mario Kart and salvage some semblance of dignity for the night. If anything about Mario Kart could be said to be on the side of dignity.

It was nearly 8:30 when Cas was trying valiantly to remember how the controls worked in Q-Bert, not particularly helped by the warmth of Dean's chest at his back and hands at his hips. 

"Ah, fuck me," Dean muttered, his voice close to Cas's left ear.

"Aside from the fact that we're in public," Cas murmured while avoiding the coiled snake, "that's an odd request to make given that _you're_ the one standing behind _me_ at the moment." Dean bumped Cas just behind the ear with his nose, snorting. "But seriously, what's wrong?"

"If you look real quick to the left, there are three guys coming down the staircase over there, a black guy and two white guys?" Dean's voice was soft in his ear, lips just brushing the shell, and Cas's eyes fluttered closed for just a second. After that his game was a loss anyhow, so he glanced over at the stairs before leaning back against Dean.

"Yes?"

"So hopefully this won't be relevant, but the black dude is named Gordon Walker. I went to high school with him, hated him, total dick. But then a few years later he dated one of Lisa's friends, so I had to put up with him again for like a year. Came to my fuckin' wedding and everything. If we're lucky he won't see me or try to talk to me or anything, but if he does, that's why I'll probably look like I want you to put me out of my misery the entire time."

Castiel nodded. "I'll keep that in mind and try to come up with an escape plan in case he does ambush you."

Dean kissed the corner of his jaw, and Cas could feel the smile against his skin. "Awesome."

As he put another quarter into the machine and Deans hands tightened around him, a thought flitted through his head for at least the fifth time that evening—none of this _felt_ like being out on his third or fourth date with a guy he'd known for two weeks. Everything, from the casual confidence of their touches to the familiarity of their teasing, felt like… well, like a relationship. Maybe he really was being ridiculous, thinking that if he didn't wait a couple more weeks to bring it up he'd come off as clingy. As he jumped his little alien right off the side of the stupid pyramid, biting his lower lip, he imagined talking to Dean about it that night, after the bar. If things kept going like they were, he thought it might actually be a good idea.

Unfortunately, that thought only lasted about another ten minutes. Cas had gone to grab them both beers while Dean played another round of pinball, and he wasn't quite all the way back when he heard someone call out "Winchester!" from the other side of Dean. From the way Dean grimaced before turning around, Cas knew before looking that it was Walker.

"How the hell you doin', man? Long time no see." Castiel reached Dean's side with the beers just as Gordon was greeting him.

"Gordon, hey, yeah, long time," Dean replied. Gordon didn't seem to notice the total lack of enthusiasm in his words. Cas nudged his arm with a bottle and Dean took it with a grateful look. "Hey, this is Castiel. Cas, Gordon Walker. Look, Gord, not like I don't wanna catch up, but we're actually kinda here on a _date_ , so I should—"

Castiel saw Gordon's eyes flit to Dean's bare ring finger just briefly before he interrupted. "What, things didn't work out with you and Lisa? You know I'm a divorce attorney, right? If you need any help with that—"

Castiel's eyes widened, but before he could think of anything to say Dean had cut Gordon off. "Hey, I'm gonna stop you right there before you say something you might regret when I have to punch you in the face for it. Lisa and I didn't get divorced. She died. Car accident. Couple years ago, now."

Cas was impressed by how light and even Dean kept his tone, even as his entire body had gone rigid. He took Dean's elbow, but before he could make their excuses Gordon held his hands up.

"Shit, sorry man, I shouldn't have assumed like that. You know I didn't mean anything by it. I'm really sorry to hear about that, Lisa was a great girl." He seemed sincere, at least.

Dean's muscles relaxed a little, but he still looked wary. Castiel decided he might as well be the one to save them.

"It was nice to meet you, Gordon," he lied, "but as Dean said, we're on a date, and—"

"Right, sorry, sorry! Double date, I guess, better get back to your girls?" He gave them a sly grin. Cas glanced at Dean, unsure if he'd want to even bother with a correction. "Dean, tell me you didn't leave some pretty lady alone so you could go play pinball? You better hope I don't find her before you do!"

Castiel tightened his hand on Dean's arm, and when he saw the completely done look on Dean's face was about to pull him away, but Dean rolled his eyes. "I did not leave my date alone. Cas _is_ my date, he was just getting us drinks, and he's got them now so if you'll excuse us—"

Gordon laughed, and Cas was immediately on edge. He knew that laugh. It was the "I'm gonna pretend you're joking even though you're clearly not because if you're not I won't like it" laugh, and in his experience, never preceded anything good. His eyes narrowed reflexively. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that Walker was between them and the exit; in fact, the only place they could go without getting around him was the bathrooms.

"Good one, Winchester," he said, hitting Dean on the arm. Dean's nostrils flared at the contact. "But I was at your wedding—hell, I was two feet from you making out with your wife in the back seat of Laura's car when you were drunk that one time. I know you ain't gay." He looked at Cas, something dangerous in his gaze. "You gonna let him tell lies about you like that, man, just to get me out of his hair?"

"Okay, you know what, Walker," Dean growled, keeping his voice below the din of the crowd around them so as not to attract attention, "yeah, I want you outta my hair. But you're a fucking adult, the concept of someone liking both guys and girls shouldn't be hard for you to grasp." He grabbed Cas's hand and nodded toward the bar, but as he tried to edge past Walker, Walker stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Seriously, Winchester? Your wife fuckin' dies, nice lady like Lisa, and you piss on her memory by turning into a fag?" Walker did not bother keeping his voice down, and when he got to the slur several heads turned. Most of them were glaring at him, but one woman looked at Dean and Cas in disgust.

"Oh, real gentleman, defending her honor," Dean said with a vicious grin as he shoved Walker's hand away, "but don't worry, Lisa knew I'd sucked a few dicks before I met her. She didn't mind at all. So thanks for your concern, but feel free to fuck right off."

"That's disgusting." Luckily, Walker backed away a step at that, leaving just enough room for them to shove past him.

"Disgusting," Cas said quietly, leaning toward Walker's ear just a bit as he shouldered his way past, "is dishonoring a good woman's memory by trying to use her to degrade her loved ones. You should be ashamed."

He felt Walker move to follow them, but he heard someone from the crowd that had been staring at them say, "Dude, let 'em go. You got a lot of witnesses here who all just saw you being a dickhead, it's probably not a good time to start any shit."

They were too far away to hear Walker's reply, but he didn't seem to be following them anymore, so it must have been clear that the crowd was not on his side. They didn't stop moving until they'd made it to a small table near the exit that happened to be clear and set their beers down on it.

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand and looked at him—Dean's jaw was clenched, and he looked like he'd rather have thrown the beer bottle across the room than set it on the table.

"You okay?" Cas asked quietly. He'd never seen Dean angry like this before; his first instinct was to put his arm around his waist, but he didn't know if the contact would be welcome, especially given the reason behind the anger. Dean hadn't pretended for a moment that they weren't together, but that didn't mean he'd be completely comfortable with public affection right after that kind of confrontation.

Dean leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Cas," he said, mostly to the table. "If I'd had any idea he was a homophobic douchebag instead of a regular douchebag, I would've paid more attention, kept us away from him."

Cas gripped Dean's shoulder, pulling him away from the table just enough to see his face.

"This is in no way your fault, Dean. You and I are both the victims here. You had no idea he would be here tonight, or that he'd say those things."

"I let him fucking ruin our date—"

"I am not worried about our date, which has not been ruined. I'm more worried about you, after he said those things about Lisa. Are _you_ okay?"

Dean looked up into Cas's eyes for the first time then, clearly surprised, although Castiel didn't see why. A man had just interrupted their date to disparage Dean's dead wife, of course he was worried.

After a second, Dean shook his head. "Like I said, Lisa knew I liked guys when we got together, she never cared. Nothing that asshole can say changes that. Or her." He leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch, and Cas finally let himself rest a hand on Dean's waist. "Thanks for sayin' that, though. To him. Here he is throwing around the f-word and you're defending your date's late wife you've never even met."

"Well, I'm unlikely to change his opinion of either of our sexualities, but if he really did like Lisa at all then maybe he'll be capable of some small amount of shame for trying to use her against you. Which, honestly, is much more shocking to me. Homophobes who want to yell at two men on a date are a dime a dozen, but that's really sinking to a whole new level."

He could feel Dean's brow wrinkle against his, and saw his face pinch in a slight frown.

"Dime a dozen, huh? Guess this isn't exactly a new experience for you. I told you I haven't been on a ton of actual dates with guys, when I was younger it was all just hookups. I've gotten dirty looks and people muttering behind my back, but I've never been confronted like that. I guess it's gonna happen, though." He slid his arms around Cas's waist. "I'm sorry you're apparently used to it. Shitty thing to get used to."

Cas shrugged. "I'm not sure I'd say used to it. For a while—" He knew he probably shouldn't be telling Dean this right then, this was probably the _stupidest_ thing he could say at the moment, but his mouth was already moving. He dropped his eyes to where his fingers were fiddling with the button on Dean's henley. "Once, in college, I was on a date and we got jumped, basically. Two guys were harassing us in the bar and got thrown out, so they hid in the alley until we left."

"Shit, Cas."

"Luckily, they were far, far drunker than we were, so the only reason they managed to hurt us at all was the element of surprise. I was more scared than injured." _And now I've probably talked you out of dating guys_ , he thought to himself, _good job, me._ "Anyhow, what I was about to say was that for a while I was pretty skittish. Only went to gay bars or parties sponsored by the campus LGBT group; if I did venture elsewhere with a date I wouldn't so much as hold hands. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to realize that the vast majority of assholes aren't actually interested in backing up their words with action. But once I did, it became so clear that… that's all they have, are some words that they hope will scare me or provoke me. I'm not used to it, I don't think you ever get used to people saying awful things about you. I don't think you _should_ get used to it. It's just that now I see it more as a pitiful expression of impotence than the power play they think they're making. Makes it easier to walk away and move on with my life."

"And you haven't been attacked since then?"

Cas shook his head. "Yelled at a few times. A bartender who wouldn't serve us once, but there were plenty of other bars on that street who had no problem accepting gay money."

"Ew, even with your gay cooties all over it?"

Cas scoffed. "I will not be lectured on cooties by someone who's allowed _girls_ to touch his _dick_."

Dean laughed, and the melancholy tone that had taken hold was broken.

"Let's get out of here," Cas said.

Dean frowned. "I don't wanna let him scare us off."

Cas shrugged. "We've been here for a couple of hours. It's fun, but it's getting more crowded. I was thinking we could go back to my place and watch a movie? I have Netflix or Amazon Prime on my TV, or we could stop by a Redbox."

It wasn't exactly a spur-of-the-moment idea—it had been his backup plan all along if the bar started to get crowded enough that it was hard to get to the games. Gordon Walker had just provided a good excuse to shift to somewhere more private.

They finished their beers and headed to the Impala.

They didn't talk much on the way back to Cas's apartment. It wasn't awkward, but Dean did seem distracted. Cas hoped a movie would get his mind off of what had happened.

When they got there, Cas showed Dean how to work the remote and let him pick a movie while he made them some popcorn. While it was popping in the microwave, he remembered how he'd felt earlier—like maybe it was the right time to talk to Dean about a relationship. Well, so much for that. "Hey, y'know how we got harassed for being out in public together tonight? Wanna commit to more of that?" Cas sighed. He didn't _think_ the experience would scare Dean off permanently, but the fact was, he had other options. Unlike Cas, Dean could be perfectly happy dating a woman and not getting harassed.

Suddenly the phone call he'd overheard, which he'd managed to not think about once all week, came back to him. _Was_ Dean also seeing Cassie? Would his life be easier with her?

Luckily, before Castiel managed to get himself too worked up the microwave dinged, and almost simultaneously Dean called out from the living room, "Are you more in an _Inglorious Basterds_ or _Legally Blonde_ kind of mood?"

Well, he could wait another two weeks to bring up any sort of commitment without incurring Anna's wrath. Hopefully nothing else bad would happen on their dates in the meantime, Dean would forget about this, and choose Castiel over Cassie.

They wound up watching _Hot Fuzz_ , which neither of them had seen. Dean put his arm around Cas, ate the popcorn, laughed at the movie… but something still seemed off. He wasn't as preoccupied as he'd been in the car, but he was looking at Cas a lot—and sometimes when Cas caught him, there was a worried, pensive sort of expression for just a second before it melted into a smile. At least the smiles did seem genuine.

Once the popcorn bowl was gone, Dean slid his other arm around Cas's waist and pulled him in a little more firmly. After a bit of jostling, they wound up snuggled together such that Dean could nuzzle into Cas's hair, which Castiel suspected had been his goal all along. At least, he hoped so—another voice in him wondered if maybe Dean just didn't want Cas to see his face anymore, so Cas wouldn't see that he was unhappy.

_People who don't want to be with someone do not snuggle on the couch with that person_ , he reminded himself. He was becoming even more distracted than Dean, and he finally forced himself to focus on the movie and just accept the cuddling for what it was.

As the movie ended, Dean started planting soft kisses up and down the side of Cas's neck. Castiel relaxed into them, tilting his head to give Dean better access.

"I gotta go," Dean murmured between kisses. "Don't wanna, but I have to."

Then there was that. He wished like hell that Dean would just stay and leave early in the morning, but he definitely wasn't going to make demands. He'd be lucky if Dean wanted to see him again at all, even without his acting needy.

He turned his head and caught Dean's mouth with his own. The kiss was not at all what he had expected. Cas had worried that even a kiss like this would seem a little clingy, and assumed that Dean would pull away quickly to go home. Instead, Dean clung to him as though _he_ were the one afraid _Castiel_ would leave. His mouth moved gently against Cas's, exploring as though it were their first kiss. When Cas deepened the kiss, he was rewarded with a tiny moan.

Cas finally broke off to catch his breath, but quickly realized that was easier said than done—when he opened his eyes and looked into Dean's, he was left breathless all over again. Just for a second, he was hit with an urge to tell Dean how he felt, an urge strong enough that he had to clench his jaw to keep it from just spilling out. Because just for a second, he was sure he saw it reflected in Dean's eyes.

"Dean," Cas let himself murmur. He thought he saw fear flicker through Dean's eyes, but then it was gone and he pulled Castiel into another kiss. Emboldened, Cas started to tug Dean down to lie on top of him on the couch, but halfway down Dean started protesting.

"Cas—Cas, I really gotta—Fuck, _Cas_ —" he murmured, but didn't stop kissing in between protestations.

But when Cas started to push his overshirt off his shoulders, Dean pulled back for real, laughing.

"It's after eleven, man, I really do need to get going." He pressed down on Cas's chest with one hand as he pushed himself up, preventing Cas from following him. Cas glared at him.

"You're getting farther away from me. I don't understand. This is a bad plan, I preferred you down here."

Dean stood up from the couch, grinning down at Cas. "Look, I admit it's not the best plan, buddy, but it's all I've got to work with."

"I really think you should come back down here, with me, and we can talk this over."

"Get up, you dork."

Dean reached down and took his hand, and Cas let himself be pulled up off the couch. There was more murmuring and kissing as they made their way to the front door.

As disappointed as he was that Dean was leaving, Cas was at least feeling less anxious about them in general now. Dean wasn't acting like someone who didn't want to come back.

"So, what kind of family thing do you have tomorrow?" He asked, offhand, mostly for something to talk about to try and delay Dean leaving by another minute or two.

"Ah, nothing big." Dean shrugged, suddenly turning toward the door in a way that felt distinctly like he was looking for a reason to look away from Cas. He fiddled with the doorknob. "Just dinner at Bobby and Ellen's. Not that important, but Ellen'd kill me if I said I'd come and then cancelled."

"Oh," Cas said, hiding his confusion. "Well, have fun."

"I'm sure I will," Dean said, giving Cas what seemed like a sad smile. Dean leaned in and gave him one last peck on the lips before opening the door. "Talk to you later, Cas."

And then he was out the door, heading toward his car. Cas looked after him, frowning.

If Dean was working in Lawrence, with Bobby, during the day, then going over to Bobby and Ellen's, also in Lawrence, in the evening, why would Cassie, whoever that was, go to his house at some point in between?

He did usually get off work in the afternoon. He might have time to drive the half hour home, do… whatever it was, with Cassie, then drive back to Lawrence for dinner. If that were the case, whatever it was must be either really important or something he was really, really looking forward to, or else why bother?

Or maybe he'd lied. Maybe he wasn't going back to Lawrence at all, and was doing something else entirely that evening. Like going on a date.

Either way, Castiel was no longer feeling better about the situation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Up/Down is a real place. I haven't been there, or any video game bar, but I'm in KC for a week and a half starting Tuesday and I might try and go. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**To: Anna**   
Are you around? Awake?

**From: Anna**   
Both. What's up?

**To: Anna**   
Can I call you?

Dean had left barely a half an hour before. Cas had tried to put his worries out of his head while putting away his dishes and getting ready for bed. Finally, though, he'd had to admit that he wouldn't be able to get to sleep without some external processing.

Rather than getting a reply text, his phone rang.

"Castiel? Didn't you have a date with Dean tonight? What happened?"

He threw himself down on the couch.

"If I promise that I know that this is irrational and probably only some of it is true, if any, will you just listen to me for a minute so I can get it out of my system?"

"Okay, sure, yes. You have one minute to get it out of your system."

Castiel took a deep breath and started in, not talking _too_ quickly but at a steady clip as everything in his head spilled out into the phone.

"Dean is definitely dating someone else, a woman named Cassie, who is probably the woman I saw him with at Starbucks. The _beautiful_ woman I saw him with. He has a date with her tomorrow and is lying to me about it because for some reason he doesn't want me to know that he's dating other people, and I'm not quite attributing this to malicious reasons yet but it's definitely suspicious. On top of that, tonight on our date some guy he knows said some homophobic shit and gave him ample reason to never date a man again. On the up side, he likes me a lot and is upset and conflicted about all this, because he'd really like to keep seeing me, but in the end he's not going to get harassed when he's out with Cassie tomorrow, or ever. So that will cement his impression that I am simply not worth the trouble and I either just won't hear from him again or he's going to call me in a couple of days and break it to me gently."

Anna was quiet for a moment, and Castiel could almost see her blinking, trying to process it all.

"Okay. Castiel," Anna finally said, sounding like she was trying to approach a distressed animal. "Exactly how much of this has Dean actually said to you?"

He let out a sigh. "Absolutely none of it. I told you, I accept my irrationality."

"Okay, we can work with that. So why don't we start from the beginning and you can explain to me how your brain managed to come to _any_ of these conclusions. First of all, where did the name Cassie come from, if he didn't actually tell you he was dating her? Did you make that up?"

"No, no, the actual name itself is one of the few confirmed facts here. Let me back up. Dean and I met for lunch on Tuesday. For the most part, it was actually a lot of fun. We ate pie and talked and it was very… relaxing."

"Okay. That sounds… good?" Anna sounded more than a little confused.

He explained the overheard conversation. "At the time, I ignored it, because we had such a good time. For once I managed _not_ to worry about this for the rest of the week, and just enjoy it."

"That's great! Whoever Cassie is, she's not your problem until Dean decides to make her your problem. So I'm guessing you _also_ don't know for a fact that he's lying about not going on a date tomorrow?"

"I don't, but… what he has said about tomorrow hasn't really added up."

"Like how?"

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "I'll get to it. That was at the end of the night."

He took a deep breath in and out, and made himself think about the first part of the night, before Gordon showed up. Made himself remember how well it was going and how good he felt.

He told Anna about how great the first part of the night went, and how he'd decided to talk to Dean after the bar and bring up the idea of a serious relationship, just to see where things stood.

"I take it that talk didn't go well?" Anna asked, and Castiel could almost hear the cringe through the phone.

"It never happened. I was just thinking about suggesting we head out when some asshole Dean used to know accosted us and wound up saying some nasty homophobic things, even dragging Dean's dead wife into it."

"Oh my god! He didn't attack you or anything, did he?"

"Just words, Anna, I'm okay. We talked about it afterward, and… I don't know. He didn't seem extremely upset by it, but nothing like that has ever happened to him before. We came back here and watched a movie, and he was affectionate, we cuddled during the movie and made out a little. But he also seemed vaguely distant and distracted the entire time."

"Well, that's sort of understandable, don't you think?"

"Of course. But after that I couldn't exactly say 'oh, by the way, would you like to commit yourself to more of that?' And I just…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Unlike me, Dean has the option of dating women. I'm worried that this experience has proven to him that, no matter how much he may like me, he's better off sticking with women."

"Did he say anything remotely like that? _Anything_ about not wanting to see you again?" Anna sounded stern now, using her "little sister knows best" voice. Castiel sighed again.

"No, no. Not at all. _But—_ here's the part that actually tipped me over the edge. As he was leaving, I asked him what this family event on Saturday that he'd mentioned last weekend was. I wasn't fishing for information, I swear, just making conversation. But he said he was having dinner at his uncle's house in Lawrence."

"Okay…"

"If his family commitment is in Lawrence, why did he ask Cassie to come to _his_ house an hour earlier? If he works in Lawrence until the afternoon, why would he come back to Lenexa at all in between? I think he has a date with her, and flat-out lied to me about it." Castiel's stomach sank; saying it out loud made it feel like it was definitely true. He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes.

"Oh. Castiel." Anna's tone didn't help. It was her sympathy voice. He'd really been hoping for the stern voice again, telling him he was being ridiculous. Just those two words let him know that she thought he could be right. "You've known that he might be seeing someone else, though, right? This isn't really new."

"As far as I know, he hasn't lied to me about it before, though. Not like that. And we didn't make more plans before he left like we did last weekend." A new, even more horrible thought hit him, and he felt his heart speed up. "What if _she's_ his girlfriend and I'm some dirty secret he's hiding away?"

"When this guy he knew came up to you, did Dean hide the fact that he was with you?" Ah, good, the stern voice was back. "I assume he didn't, if the guy said homophobic shit to you."

"No. No, he didn't at all. He was actually very clear about the fact that we were on a date together."

"And didn't you meet, like, his best friend in Chicago?"

"Yes."

"And did he act at all shifty when you met either of them? Did he seem worried they might say something? Mention this supposed girlfriend?"

He thought. "No, I… I suppose not. Not that I noticed at the time."

"Look, yes, maybe he's got a date with this girl. But I think you can chill out about the whole cheating-on-a-girlfriend-with-you thing. At least until you have more solid evidence, okay?"

"You're right. Of course." He takes a deep breath. "The fact remains, though, that it is very likely that he is also dating a woman and that tonight he was given a reason to choose her over me."

"You don't know that. You said he wasn't overly upset about it, and he still went home with you and watched a movie. He didn't have to do that. I'm sure he's not an idiot, Cas. He knew going into this that two men on a date might catch some flack." She paused. "How did you wind up going to lunch with him, anyhow?"

Cas's brow furrowed. What did that have to do with anything? "He called Sunday night and told me he had a dentist appointment nearby and asked if I wanted to get lunch while he was around."

"So _he_ called _you_."

"Yes." He saw where she was going with this. "But that was nearly a week ago."

"But then he also wanted to see you tonight? Who made _that_ call?"

"We just… I don't remember, we agreed last week as he was leaving that we'd see each other tonight."

To his surprise, Anna snorted. "Wait, so you already had this date set up, and then he called you and wanted to see you _sooner_?"

Cas could feel himself blushing as he rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get it, he likes me. That doesn't change what happened tonight, or the fact that he apparently doesn't like me enough to cancel whatever he's got tomorrow. Or even tell me the truth about it."

"First off, you still don't actually know who Cassie is or whether he's lying about anything." Anna's voice was firm. And she was right, of course. He sat up with a sigh.

"And second?"

"Second, what do you really expect him to say? I mean, if he _does_ have a date with someone else, don't you think he'd feel pretty damn awkward telling you that?"

"True," Castiel grumbled. "Although saying he's meeting a friend would at least be closer to the truth than saying he's having dinner at his uncle's house."

"Maybe he panicked and said the first thing that came to mind. Maybe he's as flustered about all of this as you are. Maybe he really, really likes you, but isn't sure _you'd_ want a commitment so soon, so he's scared to stop seeing someone else he'd already gone out with in case you don't feel the same way. Point being, you have _absolutely no idea_ who this person is, why he's talking to her, what he's doing with her, or why he would hide it from you. And you won't without asking him."

"I cant _ask_ him!" Castiel nearly laughed. "What would I say? 'We need to talk. I creepily happened to see you in Starbucks with a beautiful young woman, and then I creepily happened to overhear your phone call with someone named Cassie who may or may not be said beautiful young woman, and since I'm insecure and extremely creepy could you tell me who this person or these people are?'"

"You didn't do either of those things on purpose. You're not stalking him."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure he'll believe that now that it's happened _twice_."

"Fine, okay. Don't ask him directly. But you could at least have the relationship talk you were planning? Only slightly modified. Like, make sure he understands that you're okay with him seeing other people, but if he does you'd like him to be upfront about it?"

Castiel shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If I can _possibly_ think of a way to say that that isn't incredibly uncomfortable and awkward I'll think about it. Although at this point I'm probably better off just trying to forget about it and talking to him in two weeks like I'd planned. I mean, if I ever see him again after tonight."

"You went home and cuddled. Doesn't exactly sound like he's written you off already."

"It's still possible that he's considering it and is waiting until after his date with Cassie to decide," Cas couldn't help pointing out.

"You know, Castiel," Anna said, finally starting to sound exasperated, "a _lot_ of things are possible. Maybe Cassie is his cleaning lady. You basically have two choices: talk to Dean about it, or put it out of your head and just enjoy your time with him."

"You forgot the third option," he said dryly, "obsess about it for a few days, spiraling into an anxiety attack every time, until I can't even speak to Dean anymore."

"You'll never guess why I left that one out."

"And you thought I'd let you get away with it. Oh, Anna, it's like you don't even know me." At least that got a laugh out of her.

"Please, please, _please_ choose option A or B," she pleaded.

"I will try," he promised, unsure if he would be able to. "And if things get bad I will let you know and you can distract me."

"Maybe we should plan a distraction, just in case. You want to come over tomorrow night? You bring takeout, I'll bake something for dessert."

"It's a date," Castiel said, and soon they hung up.

He sighed as he went into his bedroom. Of course he was blowing all this out of proportion, but knowing that in his rational mind didn't do much to stop the churning in his gut.

—

The next day, Castiel managed to keep himself reasonably distracted. He had errands to run in the morning, and then after lunch he curled up with a Terry Pratchett novel he'd been meaning to read forever.

He thought about Dean occasionally, of course. Checked his phone more often than he should have, given that he knew Dean was busy that day and had no reason to expect so much as a text from him in even the best circumstances.

Finally, he looked up to see that it was just past five. He stood up from the couch and stretched, wondering what he should pick up for dinner.

He wound up arriving at Anna's with a pizza and a six-pack of the fancy flavored sodas she loved. She had made his favorite brownies, so everyone was pretty happy with the food situation.

They settled in to watch Daredevil on Netflix while they ate. And after they ate. By 10pm they had bingewatched their way through four episodes and were debating whether to continue.

"I don't know, Anna, I'm getting tired," Cas said as he threw away the pizza box.

"So crash here," she replied, craning her neck to look at him over the back of the couch. "I know you love my guest bed. Don't try to tell me you don't. Come on, we haven't had a sleepover in forever! We can watch all thirteen episodes and I'll braid your hair!"

Castiel rolled his eyes as he returned to the couch. "I'll stay, but no way can I watch more than two more episodes, or I'll fall asleep out here, and I do _not_ love sleeping on your couch. Besides, I have to be at work at noon tomorrow."

He was just plopping back down next to her when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, wondering who would text him this late on a Saturday night.

**From: Dean**   
Hey, sorry again about last night. Just wanted you to know I had a lot of fun even if Gordon tried to ruin it.

Cas sat there staring at his phone for a moment, trying to process the fact that not only had Dean texted him, but he'd texted to _apologize_ for their date, as if anything had been his fault. Anna had already been turning on the next episode, but she finally noticed that Cas was distracted and paused it.

"What is it? Did something happen?" She frowned, worried.

"No, no." He shook his head in a bit of a daze, then held his phone out for her to see. "Nothing bad. Good, actually. Terrific."

Her face broke out into a smile. "That doesn't sound like someone who doesn't want to see you again."

"No, it doesn't. Sorry, give me a minute." Feeling optimistic, he stood up and wandered into Anna's guest room to reply to the text in case the conversation turned into a phone call.

As he made his way down the hall, he let himself overanalyze _just a little_. It was late enough that Dean could have gone on a date and been done already. But if that were the case, it apparently hadn't gone all _that_ well. Not if he wa s home before 10:30 _and_ texting Cas instead of thinking about or talking to Cassie. Maybe this was the end of it—maybe, instead of deciding he didn't want to date guys, Dean had realized that he wasn't as into Cassie as he was Castiel.

Or maybe he really was hiding something, playing both sides. Maybe he'd gone home and texted Cassie the night before about how excited he was for their date, right after leaving Cas's place.

Cas really didn't want to think about the possibility of Dean being that sort of person, but images of Bartholomew planted themselves in his head. True, there had been a few more warning signs with Bartholomew; Cas hadn't met any of his friends or family in the six months they'd been together—rather, the six months they'd dated. As he sat down on the bed (which was, in fact, incredibly comfortable), he reminded himself that Dean wasn't like Bartholomew at all.

**To: Dean**   
I had a lot of fun, too. And Gordon was in no way your fault. I've already told you that.

**From: Dean**   
Still, I feel a little responsible. If you'd been there with anyone else, he wouldn't have looked at you twice.  
Let me make it up to you? Lunch again this week?

Cas grinned down at his phone. No, it didn't mean that Dean wasn't also seeing Cassie. It didn't even really mean that Dean wasn't somehow trying to hide him and Cassie from each other, or lying about where he'd been that day. But at least it put to rest all his fears that Dean would write him off just for being a man, and he'd take it.

**To: Dean**   
Making anything up to me is completely unnecessary, but lunch would be great regardless.  
What day did you have in mind? Are you back in KC during the day for some reason this week?

**From: Dean**   
Nah, but I can talk Bobby into giving me a long lunch anyhow. It's totally not a problem.

**To: Dean**   
I'm working tomorrow and off Wednesday instead - why don't I meet you in Lawrence this time? Name a place and time.

Castiel was a bit surprised when his phone rang.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas! You, uh—you sure you're okay coming all the way to Lawrence just to have lunch with me?"

Castiel frowned. "You were going to drive all the way back to Kansas City for the same reason, and _you_ would actually have to get time off of work to do it. It's really not a problem."

"Well, yeah, but—never mind. If you're sure, that sounds awesome. I'll have to think about where we should go, can I get back to you on that?"

"Of course, just let me know." Cas paused for just a second. He knew he should leave well enough alone, but some masochistic part of his brain plowed ahead. "How did dinner go tonight?"

"Ah, y'know, it was nothin' big. I think Ellen gets annoyed sometimes that Bobby sees me every day and she doesn't get to." Dean snorted. "You'd think she didn't have her own kid to smother."

His first few words sounded a little hesitant, but the rest of it sounded totally natural. Castiel didn't think Dean was outright lying, at least. He relaxed a little.

"I'm, um, actually at Anna's right now," he said, wishing he were at home so he could keep Dean on the phone. "We were in between episodes of Daredevil when I got your text."

"Oh, hey, sorry! Don't let me keep you. Uh, call me? I mean, when you get a chance? Whenever you're free."

"I will," Castiel promised, and they said their goodbyes.

—

Emboldened, he called Dean the next day after he got home from work. He got voice mail, but Dean called him back around 9:30 that evening.

After nearly an hour talking mostly about the Marvel Cinematic Universe, they had just started to say their goodbyes when Dean exclaimed, "Oh!"

"Yes?"

"Dude, I can't believe I forgot. I was totally gonna ask you about this as soon as I called, but then we started talking about Daredevil and it totally slipped my mind."

"What is it?"

"You free again Friday night? I had an idea."

"I am, what were you thinking?"

Dean laughed. "Nope. It's a surprise this time."

"Interesting," Cas said, drawing the word out. "Am I at least allowed to know whether I need to dress up?"

"Nah, don't worry, it's nothing fancy. Just something I thought would be fun."

"Ah, you've had a change of heart about bowling?" Cas asked, smirking.

Dean scoffed. "Not a chance. Not unless they don't make you wear ugly shoes with someone else's athlete's foot in 'em anymore."

"You could always buy your own bowling shoes."

"Well, then there's the fact that every bowling alley seems to smell like smoke even in places where smoking in public indoors has been illegal for years. And anywhere it's not illegal, the bowling alley is as smoky as any bar. Then you have to spend ten minutes figuring out which ball to use, like I even know how to tell. I always have to try like five of them. Then you look goofy as hell when it's your turn, which only gets justified if you actually do well, otherwise you look goofy _and_ you look like a loser. Should I continue?"

"I'm pretty sure buying your own bowling shoes would fix most of that. You should try it."

"You can't see the look I'm giving you, but trust me, it's withering."

Castiel laughed. "Well, you can't see me either, but just assume that I am now appropriately withered."

"Good," Dean said petulantly. There was a pause. "Anyhow, it's not bowling. Al _though_ , it's funny you should mention a change of heart."

"What does that mean?"

"Not sayin' any more."

"Are we going to watch a live heart transplant?" Castiel asked enthusiastically. Honestly, that _would_ be a pretty amazing date, assuming he knew the person well enough to not find it incredibly creepy.

"You are the worst at guessing, yeesh. And I'm _not_ _sayin' any more_ anyhow."

"I'll still see you Wednesday, though?"

"Absolutely."

—

They wound up talking on the phone for an hour or so the next two nights, too. Up until that point, most of their conversations outside of dates had been via text, so Cas definitely saw this as an upgrade. It felt like, after all that worry that Dean wouldn't want to see him again at all, instead their relationship had moved up a level. Which he knew was ridiculous; it was just a couple of phone calls. But although they still hadn't discussed any sort of commitment, surely Dean wasn't spending an hour a night on the phone with two different people every day. And they already had two more dates planned for the week. If Dean was still seeing someone else, at the very least Cas was pretty sure he was winning.

Every day, Cas considered bringing it up, but he knew that wasn't really a conversation he wanted to have over the phone. Not that it was anything earth-shattering or life-altering, but if Dean _wasn't_ ready for exclusivity yet, he knew he'd be more comfortable if he could read Dean's body language while they discussed it. As confident as he was that Dean was nothing like Bartholomew, Castiel knew himself well enough to know that if Dean didn't want a relationship yet he would need the reassurance. And hey, if the conversation went well, it only made sense to allow for immediate "we're boyfriends now" sex, right? So he could wait until their next date.

Well, perhaps not their next date, since squeezing "we're boyfriends now" sex in over lunch at least a half hour from either of their houses might prove tricky.

Unfortunately, whether or not to try to give Dean a blowjob in the bathroom of some poor innocent Lawrence diner wound up being a non-issue.

Wednesday morning, about a half an hour before he'd planned to leave for Lawrence, Cas's phone lit up with a call from Dean. Seeing the name on the screen, he couldn't help but feel pleased, but he frowned at the phone in confusion. What could Dean possibly want to talk to him about that couldn't wait an hour? Maybe he'd picked a different restaurant and wanted to give Cas new directions? He slid his thumb across the screen and raised the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. I'm glad I caught you." Dean sounded frazzled.

"I have yet to leave the house this morning, so it wasn't exactly difficult."

"Good! I mean, that you haven't left for Lawrence yet." Dean sighed. "Look, Cas, I am _so_ freaking sorry, but I have to cancel. We got hit with this crazy rush out of nowhere, and Bobby's cutting all our lunches down to fifteen minutes and ordering food in for us to make up for it. I'm sorry."

Cas sighed, too. Of course he was disappointed, but it didn't sound like a situation Dean had any control over. And Dean definitely sounded upset about it, so he wasn't too worried that Dean was canceling just because he didn't want to go. Unless Dean was a much better actor than he thought.

"That's certainly regrettable, but it's clearly not your fault. Unless… you didn't sabotage half the cars in Lawrence just to get out of our date, did you?"

"What? No, that'd be crazy. I only sabotaged like a half dozen, tops."

"Oh, well, if that's all…"

Dean snorted, but there was a pause afterward, and his voice was soft when he spoke again. "I am sorry, though. I was really lookin' forward to seeing you. I'll call you tonight, okay? I promise."

"I'll talk to you tonight, then. I suppose for now you'd better get back to work."

"Yeah, probably. Talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Dean."

After they hung up, Castiel looked at his phone and sighed again. He was about to set it down and find some trash TV to watch when a text message came in.

**From: Dean**   
Hey, are you free right now?

Cas frowned at the text, but before he could respond Dean continued.

**From: Dean**   
Shit, sorry.  
That was for someone else.  
Trying to find another mechanic to come in for the afternoon.

**To: Dean**   
That makes sense. If it were intended for me, I'd be worried about your short-term memory.

**From: Dean**   
It may not be great but I can remember a conversation for more than two minutes. :)  
I'll talk to you tonight.

Cas finally put his phone down on the counter and headed over to the couch. He'd just gotten Netflix turned on and was browsing through truly horrible-sounding reality shows when a traitorous thought grabbed him.

_You know, Cas and Cassie look awfully similar. They're probably right next to each other on his phone. It'd be really easy to, say, screw up and send you a message meant for her. Easier than with anyone else he knows, most likely._

That was just… that was _ridiculous_ , really.

"You still have a date scheduled for Friday, which _he_ asked you on, and he was adorable about it and wants to surprise you with something." Castiel had been reduced to talking to himself, because apparently he needed talking to. "Even if he is dating someone else, he is not the kind of person who would cancel a date with one person just to go out with someone else. He is not Bartholomew. You are dating Dean Winchester, who is a decent human being. Not Bartholomew."

He grunted to himself, hoping he'd gotten the message through his thick skull. He stared at the Netflix menu, and knew that mindless garbage wasn't going to be distracting enough.

To: Anna   
Hey, are you free for lunch?

A half an hour later, he was sitting in a cafe with his sister, telling her what just happened.

"Well, that sucks," she said after they place their orders.

Cas hesitated, fiddling with his napkin. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he had promised to go to Anna with this sort of thing.

"What is it?" She narrowed her eyes. "Did something else happen?"

"After we hung up," Cas said with a sigh, "I got a text from him asking if I was free. 'Right now,' it said."

Anna shook her head, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "What?"

"Obviously, it was immediately followed by more texts apologizing for sending that to the wrong person. He said he was looking for another mechanic to come in for the afternoon."

"Okay…"

Cas rolled his eyes hard enough that he basically rolled his entire head. "It's ridiculous of me to connect this mistake with how easy it would be to hit 'Cas' or 'Castiel' when he means to hit 'Cassie,' wouldn't it?"

Anna opened her mouth, but closed it again, tilting her head to one side. Her eyes focused at a point somewhere above Castiel's head as she considered.

Finally, she shook her head. "I guess it's possible, but if he were going to cancel on you to see her, wouldn't he talk to her _first?_ What if she's not around? Why would he cancel a sure date for a maybe?"

"If he's decided he likes her _so_ much better than me that _any_ chance with her is worth canceling our date?" Cas muttered, looking down at his water glass. Even saying it, he knew it was beyond a stretch.

Anna gave him a level look. "And what, exactly, do you think are the odds of that?"

Cas sighed. "Given how much we've been talking on the phone lately, very low. I think if he is still seeing her, his affections are at least evenly split. And I don't honestly think he's the kind of person to do that sort of thing in the first place. But what do I know."

"You are not a bad judge of character, you know," Anna said softly, causing him to look up at her. He opened his mouth to argue, but she put a hand up. "One mistake doesn't change that. Anyone can get taken in by a manipulative bastard once or twice in their lives. Just the fact that you're hypervigilant about it now means that you won't let it happen again. If your gut says to trust Dean, go with it."

"It does," Cas admitted. "I just wish it weren't also telling me that I could easily lose to this woman."

"Maybe it's not actually a competition," Anna said with a shrug. "Need I remind you yet _again_ that you don't know who she is?. She could be a cousin, or a friend from high school, or from his classes at KU. I'm sure he hasn't given you his entire life story and explained the role of every single person he interacts with every day."

Cas nodded. "I know. I know that."

"And you _could_ just ask him…"

Castiel glared at her, but luckily their food came at that moment, distracting Anna from his romantic life. They stayed off of the topic until they were nearly done eating, when Anna suddenly said, "Oh!"

"Oh?"

"I meant to ask you! Do you want to go to the Shakespeare Festival Friday night? It's the last weekend, Gabe and Kali and I are going."

Castiel sighed. He really had been meaning to go, but somehow hadn't gotten around to it all summer. "I'm sorry, Anna. I haven't been yet this year, and I'd like to go, but I'm seeing Dean on Friday."

Anna put down the water she was drinking and glared at him.

"You didn't tell me you had a date set up with Dean on Friday! So he didn't cancel that today?"

Castiel chewed his lip, realizing just how foolish his earlier worries now sounded. "No…"

"Castiel! I cannot believe you! If he cancelled today because he was no longer interested, do you really think he would have kept your plans for Friday?"

He sighed. "No. You're right, I'm a paranoid idiot."

"I didn't say idiot. Just paranoid." Her glare morphed into something much softer and more sympathetic. "I really don't think you need to worry, Cas. It sounds like things are going really well. The only problems are things that you don't actually know are even problems at all. I'm sure you guys will have a great time Friday."

"I'm sure we will." Cas gave his sister a small smile and went back to his food.

When Dean called him that night, as promised, it was a bit later than usual. He'd been calling around 9-9:30 all week, and as 9:30 passed by Cas had to work harder and harder to keep himself from freaking out.

_Three days. He's called you at the same time_ three _days,_ he thought to himself, trying not to stare at the silent phone sitting on the coffee table. _He has not signed a contract swearing to always call at that time._ _He works earlier than you do in the morning, he wouldn't call too late. If he doesn't call by 10:30, you can text him._

By the time Dean did call at 9:53, Cas was on the verge of calling Anna to talk sense into him.

"Hey, sorry I'm calling kinda late," Dean said, sounding tired. "I couldn't get Charlie off the phone."

_See? Perfectly reasonable explanation._

"How is her tour going?"

"Sounds like it's going fine. Glad she'll be back soon, I miss having her around. Hey, she's gonna be doing a thing at your library, isn't she?"

"Oh! I almost forgot about that," Cas says, surprised that he hasn't thought about it in days. He set up most of the publicity weeks ago, but now that it was only a week away he needed to do another round. "A signing next Thursday evening, yes."

"So you'll be working, right? I'll see you there?"

Cas grinned at Dean's hopeful tone. "Yes, it's a teen event that I organized, I'll be working. You're planning to come?"

"Dude, I get to see Charlie do a book signing like some kind of celebrity, _and_ stare at your ass? Sounds like a perfect night to me."

Cas held back his laughter, humming thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I like this. I'll be working, I can only steal a few glances at your ass when nobody's looking. Not an equitable situation."

Dean tsked. "Guess you better get a good long look Friday night to tide you over, huh?"

"I'll be sure to let you walk ahead of me, then," Cas said wryly, "especially if we're going up a staircase."

"Well, I was kinda thinkin', since you really need some good memories to store up, you should probably spend some time looking at it without all those layers of clothes in the way."

"Ah, so that's the kind of surprise you were talking about?" A slow smile spread across Cas's face as he pictured that scene—maybe Dean on all fours on the bed in front of him.

Dean barked out a laugh. "Nah, that's not the surprise, that's for after. Y'know, I had a lot of fun the other night, and I liked getting to just hang out and watch the movie and everything, but I gotta admit, I'm a little sad we didn't get around to anything on the more naked side of the spectrum. Especially now that I didn't get to see you today." Dean's voice was getting huskier as he spoke. "I can't stop thinking about what we could do the next time I get you alone, Cas."

"I see." Cas's voice wasn't much better. "Who's angling for phone sex now?"

"Maybe," Dean admitted with a snort. "A little. Honestly, I'm tired as hell, but let's be real, Cas. I'm gonna be thinkin' about you in bed before I go to sleep anyhow."

"Just thinking?" Castiel was already breathing a little harder and they hadn't even really started anything yet.

"Hell, no. Jesus, Cas, you think a single night's gone by when I haven't jacked off thinking about you? God, that night you fucked me in front of the mirror, can't get that outta my head."

_Me me me he thinks about me, every day he gets off thinking about ME_ , Cas thought, but all he said was, "Is that so?"

"I gotta return the favor sometime, you know that? Wanna see you like that."

Cas bit his lip. Seeing as how this was now definitely happening, he got up from the couch and made his way to his bedroom before his khakis got any more uncomfortable.

"At the risk of sounding cliche," he said as he went, "what are you wearing right now, Dean?"

"Nothin' too exciting right at the moment, just jeans and a t-shirt," Dean replied.

Cas hummed. "While I'm sure you make those jeans and t-shirt far more exciting than the vast majority of the population could hope to, you should take them off now."

Dean chuckled. "Right down to business, huh?"

"It's late, and I know you're tired," Cas said as he leaned back on his bed and popped the button on his own pants. "I thought a little efficiency on this end would allow us to take our time with the rest."

"Guess I can't argue with that."

"So why don't you let me know when you're naked and lying down on your bed?"

"Yeah. Yeah, lemme just—get upstairs." Castiel could hear Dean's footsteps on the stairs already.

His pants were still zipped, but he didn't undo them all the way yet. He ran a hand over the outline of his half-hard cock, applying just enough pressure to get himself more excited as he listened to the movement on the other end of the phone line.

Listening to Dean scrambling to do what he had asked was definitely getting more blood flowing down there, but he knew he had to be careful. He wanted so badly to really take control, to see how far Dean would be willing to let him go. Find out exactly what would make Dean moan and beg, whether he'd always work to do exactly what Castiel wanted or if he'd push back sometimes because what he really wanted was the punishment.

He also knew that it didn't matter much what the answers to those questions _were_ , because just _having_ the answers would make him fall farther in love, farther than he could afford to go until they'd talked about what this was.

_We'll talk on Friday_ , he told himself as he heard Dean set the phone down and take his shirt off.

"Okay, I'm, uh—I'm naked. And on my bed."

"Are you hard yet?"

"Fuck yes, I'm hard. You got any idea how bad I want you?"

Cas moaned as he rubbed himself through his pants. "I think I might have some idea, yes. Describe your bed for me. Please. I want to have as detailed a picture of you in my mind as I can."

"Uh, um." Cas grinned at Dean's incoherency. "Well, uh. Okay. It's a queen-sized bed, memory foam mattress. The sheets and pillowcases are all light blue, just got new pillows a few weeks ago, they're really fluffy. Dark blue comforter. The headboard is, um. Well, it's not real wrought iron, it's from IKEA, but it kinda looks like it."

Cas finally had to unzip his fly, as the image of Dean tied down, bound to that headboard, overwhelmed him. He wondered if that's why Dean had bought that type of bed in the first place.

"And you're laid out naked on that," Cas said, his eyes closed as he focused on the picture in his mind. "Are you touching yourself yet?"

"No," Dean's voice was barely more than a breath, and Cas actually let out a small whimper at the admission. "Not my dick, at least."

"What _are_ you touching, then?"

"Just—just rubbing my balls. Thought I should wait and see what you wanted me to do."

"Fuck," Cas whispered, finally reaching into his boxers to take his own dick out. He fought a brief mental battle between the devil on one shoulder whispering, _well, give the man what he wants_ and the angel on the other reprimanding him, _none of that until he's really yours_. It didn't take long, though, for him to relent and admit that the angel's plan was better in the long run.

"What I _want_ , Dean," he finally said, his voice rough with need as he began to stroke himself, "is to listen to you making yourself feel good, using whatever methods you see fit. If you'd like to wait a bit longer and enjoy the buildup, by all means, do so. But I know that I, for one, am past that point."

" _Fuck_." Dean's voice was halfway to a moan, and Cas knew that he'd finally touched himself. "Does that mean you got your hand on your dick, Cas? You naked, too?"

"Me?" Castiel chuckled. "I'm still wearing the plaid shirt and khakis I put on this morning for our date. The only thing I've done is remove my shoes. Well, that and take my cock out."

"Seriously? I'm layin' here naked and you're over there, fully dressed?" Dean laughed. "Fuck, that shouldn't be hot."

"Of course it should," Cas murmured. He closed his eyes. "I'm imagining myself sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at you, all stretched out and bare for me, stroking that gorgeous cock of yours while I watch. I could reach out and touch you, your skin, anywhere I want. Where do you want me to touch you, Dean?"

"That's perfect, Cas," Dean replied, his voice strained, "you sittin' there, watching me. You could reach over, run your hand up my leg. I know you wouldn't touch my dick, you'd just tease me, make me keep doin' all the work myself for you to watch, wouldn't you?"

Cas groaned, moving his hand a little faster. "I wish I could see you now, Dean. See how hard you are for me."

"Gimme a second," Dean said, and suddenly there was movement on the other end of the line, like he was pulling the phone away from his face.

Castiel held his breath as he realized what Dean was doing. When he heard a moan of " _Fuck, Cas_ ," it definitely came from more than a few inches away from the phone. He had to slow himself down a little, or he might not last long enough to see the fruits of Dean's labor.

When he had Dean's voice back in his ear, it was panting slightly. "Hang on, lemme send this… Okay, there you go, babe. Just for you, Cas, all that's for you."

His text alert dinged loudly in his ear. "Whatever you just did, Dean, I think it's arrived. Give me a minute."

"Take your time," Dean told him.

He pulled the phone away from his ear and navigated to the text app, where he found not just a photo, but a _video_ waiting for him.

He pushed play, and was greeted with a shot of Dean's smirking face. He was clearly lying down on the dark blue comforter he'd described, the headboard just visible behind him. The camera panned down to show that he was, in fact, naked, just as Cas had asked.

The shots of Dean's pecs and abs were enough to make Castiel breathe harder with want, but then the camera got down to his cock. Big, rock hard, leaking—Cas was forcibly reminded of how good it had felt to get pounded with something that size. Dean's hand slid up the length, squeezing more precome out of the tip. As Dean rubbed his hand around the slick, shining head a few times, Cas heard the " _fuck, Cas_ " that he'd heard live just a couple of minutes before. Dean bucked his hips once, pushing himself up through his hand, and then the video ended.

God, he could get off just watching that, even without the real thing on the other end of the phone line with him.

"That has got to be one of the hottest videos I've seen in my life," he told Dean once he got the phone back up to his ear. "I have a question for you, though."

Dean was panting, and it took him a second to get himself together enough to say, "Yeah?"

"Which did you enjoy more, shooting the video, or knowing that I was sitting here watching it?"

Dean moaned. "Jesus, Cas. Both were fucking hot. Knowing I wasn't just laying here jackin' off like usual, I was doing it for you. 'Cause it's what you wanted. Then knowing that you were getting off watching it. Watching me. I could feel you looking at me. Fuck, Cas, I'm gettin' close, _fuck_ —"

Castiel could feel himself tensing, knew that he was getting close, too. A needy noise came out of him as he thought of Dean lying there, about to come. He switched his phone over to speaker as he spoke, so he didn't have to concentrate on keeping it right by his head.

"You like putting on a show for me, don't you, Dean?" He couldn't keep the growl out of his voice if he tried. "You liked it in the mirror. You liked it on video. You like that you're doing it now, don't you, even if I can only hear you, even if I'm only picturing what you look like right before you come in my mind—"

"Oh god I'm gonna—" Dean cut himself off with a long groan.

As soon as Dean had cut in, Cas had switched over to the camera app, and he aimed it at his dick while he quietly rode out his own orgasm. He knew Dean's pornographic groans would be heard loud and clear over the footage of his shirt getting striped with come, making it obvious that it was Dean that had sent him over the edge.

Panting slightly, he brought the phone back up to his ear, turning off the speaker. Dean spoke before he'd managed to get his head clear.

"Shit. Cas, did you—"

"Hang on." He managed to focus long enough to get the video sent before letting his hand fall back down. Just keeping the phone near his ear was about as much as he could handle right then.

He heard a small noise from Dean's phone.

"What did you—"

Cas could hear when Dean opened the file, and it made him grin. He found himself stupidly pleased with the fact that he'd pulled those sounds out of Dean without even being the same room.

"Holy shit," Dean whispered when the video was over. "Holy fuck, Cas, that was—let's just say I'm keepin' that."

"I'm certainly keeping yours. I suppose I'd better find somewhere less accessible than my texting app to keep it, though…"

Dean's laugh was loud and bright through the phone. "Yeah, I don't need Anna grabbing your phone from you and running into that. I'll hide yours, too. I'm guessing Charlie doesn't wanna see that."

Cas laughed, but it was interrupted by a yawn.

"Yeah, I'm feeling strangely relaxed now," Dean teased. "I dunno why, but I bet I'm gonna fall right to sleep tonight. What time is it anyhow?"

Cas grunted and twisted his head to look for his alarm clock. "About 10:30. I'm assuming you should get to bed."

"Yeah, I better," Dean said with a sigh. "Can't wait to see you Friday. This was fun, but, ah… I think we can do better."

"I look forward to seeing your best effort." Cas glanced down at the mess on his shirt. Yeah, he needed to get cleaned up and get to bed. "Good night, Dean."

"Night Cas. Talk to you tomorrow."

As he got ready for bed, Cas tried not to read too much into some of the things Dean had said during their steamy conversation. After all, it was never wise to put too much stock in what people say during sex, when their brain-to-mouth filter might be compromised. But as he drifted to sleep, _for you_ echoed through his mind in Dean's rough voice.

—

Cas was still floating a bit from their phone call when Hannah came by his desk the next day to grab him for lunch. They headed down to the cafe/bakery/what-have-you, talking idly about some programs Castiel had been considering for later in the summer, but his mind kept drifting back to Dean.

"Do I even need to ask what—or, rather, _who_ —has you in such a dreamy state today?" Hannah asked with a knowing smile as they sat down at a table.

"Probably not," Castiel replied, smiling down at his cappuccino, "but you're welcome to anyhow."

"I take it things are going well, then? Have you seen him since you took him here last week?"

Cas gave her an abbreviated version of their date Friday night, including a very brief explanation of what had happened with Gordon.

"I'm sorry such a nice evening was marred by a few vicious comments," she said when he finished. "Did you go to his party on Saturday?"

Castiel froze, his stomach dropping. "His what?"

Hannah's eyes grew wide. "I—I was talking to Charlie last week. We've been… talking… She said something about being sad that she had to miss Dean's party on Saturday."

Cas narrowed his eyes, peering closely at Hannah. "Did she give any other details?"

"Um, no. When I asked about it she said it wasn't important and changed the subject. So—you didn't—I'm sorry." Hannah's eyebrows were knit in distress.

Cas just shook his head, looking down at his food. If Dean was lying to him, it certainly wasn't Hannah's fault. "It's fine, of course you'd assume that I'd been invited. He told me he was having dinner with his family in Lawrence on Saturday."

"Maybe it was a dinner party?" Hannah asked in a small voice.

"I… it's possible. And he first described it as a 'family thing' before telling me he was going to Ellen's house for dinner… I could certainly believe that Charlie would be invited to such an event, I know for a fact that he considers her family. It's just odd that he wouldn't use the word party if that's what it actually was. He certainly didn't make it sound like they were celebrating anything specific, just that he hadn't been there in too long and Ellen was demanding his presence."

Castiel was talking almost more to himself than to Hannah, trying to work out if it was actually possible for the various versions of Dean's day to match up.

"Maybe that's why Charlie didn't want to elaborate," Hannah said quickly. "If it really was hardly even something worth calling a party."

"Maybe," Castiel allowed, willing to pretend that it was a reasonable explanation and not just the first thing Hannah could think of to make him feel better. "Whatever he was doing, by 10:30 he was on the phone with me, so if it _was_ a party it wasn't exactly a wild one."

Hannah immediately looked relieved. "Well, there you go, Castiel. If he was calling you at 10:30, then clearly whatever it was, it wasn't very exciting. Charlie was probably exaggerating when she used the word party."

Cas decided to let it go for the moment, at least for Hannah's sake if nothing else. "Enough about me. How often have you been talking to Charlie? This is the first you've mentioned of it."

He smiled as Hannah sputtered a bit, blushing as she insisted there was nothing to talk about. He eventually got a little more out of her, enough to determine that his friend was definitely more smitten with the red-haired author than she was quite ready to admit out loud.

It wasn't until he got back to work that he let his thoughts drift back to Dean, and Cassie, and parties that are over by 10:30 on a Saturday night. No matter which way he twisted the limited data he had, he couldn't make it all fit into one coherent story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) I told you it wouldn't be four months before the next chapter. :) Okay, just over two months isn't the best, but it's an improvement! The next one will probably be faster than this.
> 
> 2) Note that this fic now has a chapter count - 8/10 - and is also part of a series! This is because, after much deliberation, I have decided to end this particular story once this storyline is resolved and put the rest in a new story. See, after this gets resolved, I have like the next year of their lives planned out, but it doesn't really follow a story arc, per se. It's a bit more like a series of timestamps It feels cleaner to let this fic play out its arc, then put that stuff up separately, rather than let this one go on and on. So there will be a second fic at least as long as this one.
> 
> I will also be posting a few Dean-POV one-shot timestamps.
> 
> So don't forget to subscribe to the series itself if you want more than two more chapters of this 'verse!
> 
> pi) I am having major character bleed re: Cas's insecurity. This chapter has been super painful to write, and I'm pretty much convinced it sucks horribly and I have now ruined this fic (even if, like Cas, I fully acknowledge that these thoughts are irrational). Apparently I really shouldn't write angst, or at least not this particular flavor of angst. If I ever, ever mention any future fic ideas that involve this level of insecurity/anxiousness, somebody fucking slap me.
> 
> Purple) If you want to tell me what to do, you've got your chance over at my [fic giveaway!](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com/post/140352138324/pgs-6000-kudos-fic-giveaway) Note: I will not be doing any requests for insecurity angst. :P


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHHHH MYYYYYYY GODDDDD
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience. So, my original goal was to post this chapter before 221B Con, which was at the start of April. Clearly, that didn't happen, but I was close, with 7K written. Then (as you may know if you've seen my many breakdowns over this on tumblr), while I was writing on it at con things weren't working, and I realized on the drive home that the chapter and possibly the entire fic was irreparably broken and I should throw it all away.
> 
> Okay, I talked myself down from that reasonably quickly (...a few days). But honestly, if I weren't posting this as a WIP I definitely would have gone back at that point and done some major rewrites so that I wouldn't be at the point I was at here. Without that as an option, I let it sit for a few days, decided what _absolutely_ needed to change in this chapter for it to be, if not perfect, at least not broken, and then started the whole damn thing over.
> 
> So here is chapter 9 v2.0. Well, like 2.2 or so, as I have done further editing after finishing the draft a few days ago.
> 
> This is what I get for claiming this chapter wouldn't take as long as the last.

Compared to the mountain of other Dean-related worries he'd had that week, it seemed pretty minor. So he called it a dinner when talking to Cas but a party when talking to Charlie. Compared to worrying that Dean would drop him completely due to his gender, that wasn't much.

It would be nearly _nothing_ , in fact, if it weren't so damn close to things Bartholomew had pulled. Cas had discovered after the fact that Bartholomew had been a master of the lie of omission. Sure, there were times he'd flat-out lied, but most of the time he'd told Cas something that was true, but not the _whole_ truth. Barely even half the truth, most of the time.

_I'm staying with my cousin in Boston for the weekend_ really meant _and my cousin's roommate, whom I've slept with every time I'm in town for the past several years_. _Going to a movie with my parents_ meant _and the woman I've also been seeing for three months._

And, of course, _having a few friends over for dinner_ more than once meant _having a few friends over for a small but wild party full of drugs you wouldn't approve of and everyone fucking everyone else. And also to eat dinner._

The number of things a truly dedicated psychopath could hide from a person was amazing, really. The cheating had, obviously, come as a huge blow, but when Castiel eventually learned the extent of Bartholomew's drug use he'd felt like he'd truly fallen down some kind of rabbit hole. He tried to reconcile the man who barely drank, whom Cas had never seen drunk once, who claimed to have smoked pot a few times in college and nothing stronger, with the man who wound up on the actual _news_ due to the size of the drug bust that ended one of those parties, but his mind could barely handle the cognitive dissonance.

He'd actually gone so far as to wonder if Bartholomew had legitimately had multiple personalities, but then another victim had sought him out and together they'd worked out that no, there was only one person in that head, and that one person had just been very intentionally living several different lives.

So it was no surprise that Cas kept turning the dinner/party distinction over in his head for the rest of the day. It left him with a low simmer of discomfort in his belly, but not a full-out anxiety attack.

When Dean called that night, Cas tried to have a normal conversation, but he knew he was being more subdued than usual. He was just so tired of not knowing where he stood, but it still didn't feel like a conversation to have over the phone. And he'd see Dean the next day, they could talk about it then.

"What's up, man?"

Cas started. "What?"

"I dunno, everything okay? You just sound a little… run down."

Castiel cursed himself mentally for not being able to act normal even on the phone. The idea of just _asking_ Dean about the discrepancy flitted through his mind for a moment, but he cast it out quickly. He'd hardly told Dean anything about Bartholomew yet; it would be impossible to explain why he was so paranoid and needy without going into it, which he really did not want to do at that moment.

Oddly enough, the one thing that had kept him from outright panicking was that it was _so_ similar to lies Bartholomew had told. It was one thing to worry that he'd chosen a liar or cheater twice in a row. It seemed incredibly unlikely that he had specifically chosen two men who threw drug-fueled orgies and instead claimed to be having dinner. He focused on that fact so he could try to push the issue aside and carry out a normal conversation.

"I'm just tired," he lied. "I stayed late to help out with some administrative stuff, and I guess it was one more hour than my brain could handle today." That part, at least, was true.

"Hey, we should probably go, then, so you can get to sleep," Dean said.

Something about his tone made Cas pause. He didn't sound disappointed. It was obvious that he'd rather make Cas feel better than keep Cas up for his own fun (whether that fun was just talking or more of what they'd gotten up to the previous night).

Cas felt his heart twist. Maybe Dean had lied to him, and he was going to have to deal with that eventually. But these little ways that Dean made his affection clear were themselves so _honest_. He needed to hold onto that, to everything that always seemed to fade to the back of his mind as soon as he was no longer with or talking to Dean.

"It's okay," he said, and this time he meant it. "I'm a little mentally worn out, not necessarily sleepy. We can talk a bit more."

"If you're sure. We need to talk about tomorrow, anyhow."

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?" Cas grinned.

"No, but we do need to figure out when and where to meet."

"Ah, boring logistics. Maybe I should go to bed after all," he teased.

" _Hey_ ," Dean said, a playful warning in his tone. "I'm willing to do all the planning work here, but if I show up at your place and you're not even home I'm gonna be pissed."

"You want to pick me up here again?" Cas asked, a bit surprised. A little voice piped up in the back of his head, trying to tell him that _it sure seemed like Dean didn't want Cas to see his—_ but, luckily, Dean responded before it could get very far.

"Yeah. I told you, all the interesting stuff's up by you. I'm still trying too hard to impress you to take you to Olive Garden."

It was a valid point, and between that and the little tingle he felt in his chest at the idea of Dean trying to impress him at all, the voice was quieted.

"I think you're underselling the suburbs. Who wouldn't be impressed by unlimited breadsticks?"

"If you're done being a smartass, can I pick you up around seven?"

—

Luckily, work kept Castiel busy most of the day Friday. In the few moments he did have to spare a thought for his love life, he wavered between excitement for their date that night and the familiar background hum of anxiety.

Finally, a half hour after he got off work, he was standing in front of the mirror on his closet door, wishing he had a little more to go on about the exact nature of their activities that night. He was a bit worried that a t-shirt and jeans would be _too_ casual—but it was a v-neck, at least, not a ratty old thing with a band logo or something on it. And he'd been told before that its slightly snug fit was _very_ flattering on him. After another minute of squinting at his reflection, he changed into a darker pair of jeans.

He finally sighed and went to find his non-ratty pair of sneakers. He didn't normally stress about what to wear on their dates, but he could admit to himself that he was sublimating all his worries into finding an outfit that said both "let's fuck" and "be my boyfriend." Given that he was hoping the night would end with both of those, but was losing confidence once again in the second one.

He had just finished getting his shoes back on when there was a knock at his door. He checked that his wallet was in his pocket, then grabbed a pair of sunglasses on his way through the apartment and perched them on his head. When he opened the door, he was relieved to see that Dean was dressed similarly.

Of course, Dean being Dean, he looked unfairly hot in just a t-shirt and jeans in a way Castiel could never hope to match. Cas was in good shape, and he knew he was attractive enough, but it wasn't the same. The entire way Dean held himself compounded his movie-star good looks such that he looked like he'd been torn out of a magazine spread that happened to feature a designer specializing in grey heather cotton.

His lopsided grin as he said "Hey, Cas" didn't help matters.

Cas said hello and stepped back to let him in, opening the door fully as he did. Rather than entering, though, Dean stood there for a moment, letting his eyes travel down Cas's body appreciatively.

"Damn," he murmured as he stepped forward, right into Cas's space. "You look like you should be fronting stadium tours and sleeping with supermodels, not shelving books and sleeping with mechanics."

Castiel's breath hitched a little at the thought that Dean thought he looked half as good as he thought Dean looked. As Dean came closer, he was entirely helpless to resist the magnetic pull of Dean's body near his. When he let his hands slide up Dean's chest, it was as much to keep himself from swaying too far forward as it was to find some point of contact.

"Luckily, anyone who sees us together will think I'm sleeping with a supermodel," he replied as he let his lips drift close to Dean's. "And I can assure you that you are the only mechanic I'm sleeping with."

"Good." Cas felt the word reverberate through Dean's chest, then Dean's hands gripped his hips tight and pulled him into a rough kiss. Warmth spread through Castiel's body at the possessive touch, and he found himself digging his fingers into Dean's shoulders in return. When they pulled back from the kiss, only their mouths parted, their bodies still clinging together.

"God, I missed this," Dean said quietly, his eyes still closed.

"Me too," Castiel murmured. Dean opened his eyes.

"Yeah?" Uncertainty flashed through Dean's expressive green eyes.

"Of course," Cas replied with a fond chuckle. "I thought I made that fairly clear on Wednesday."

Dean hummed and kissed him again.

"You sure made something clear," he said against Cas's lips.

It got harder to kiss after that, as Cas started laughing.

"I don't think that actually works as innuendo." He made sure to hold Dean's hips flush with his, so it was clear that he didn't actually _want_ to stop kissing, it was just becoming _difficult_.

"I don't think _you_ actually work as innuendo."

Castiel finally had to admit defeat, lowering his forehead to Dean's shoulder. Luckily, Dean was shaking with laughter by that point, too, and Cas could almost feel his smile as he pressed his face into Cas's hair.

Maybe he'd get both of the things he wanted that night, after all.

\---

"The Nelson?" Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean as they pulled into the art museum's parking garage. It was an interesting choice for a date, but he didn't see why it needed to be a surprise.

Dean shrugged. "Well, the Nelson's parking. We're not going in, though."

Cas frowned as they pulled into a spot, thinking. Dean had made it sound like they'd be eating soon—maybe a picnic in the sculpture garden? He glanced over, and whatever they were doing, Dean looked very pleased with himself about it.

When they got out, Dean opened the trunk and pulled out a small cooler and a quilt, which seemed to confirm Cas's suspicions.

"A picnic?" He wound his arms around Dean's waist from the back, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder.

"Is that okay?" Dean hesitated as he reached up to close the trunk.

Castiel wasn't sure it was a good idea to get too affectionate, since a couple of families were getting out of their cars nearby, but he couldn't help planting a quick kiss behind Dean's ear.

"Very romantic," he murmured. It was worth the dirty glance he got from the mother waiting for her husband to get their son out of the car across from them to see the shy smile and blush on Dean's face as he slammed the lid of the trunk down.

Dean stepped out of Castiel's arms, then pressed the quilt into them in his stead. Cas tucked the quilt under one arm so he could take Dean's hand with the other as they headed toward the sculpture garden.

But to his surprise, as soon as they got around the side of the museum, Dean took the sidewalk that would go directly across the garden right at the back of the museum, rather than further into the garden. They were almost all the way across when a thought occurred to him and he stopped.

"Dean, where are we going?" He asked, looking around at the garden that was quickly being put behind them. "I thought we were going to eat here."

Dean just grinned. "Nope." He nodded in the direction they'd been walking—directly toward, Cas now realized, Southmoreland Park.

"Huh," Cas said, squinting at Dean. "We can't possibly be going where I think we're going, because you, Dean Winchester, hate Shakespeare."

Dean rolled his eyes, still grinning. "Yeah, yeah. You wanna give me more shit, or do you wanna go see a play?" He tugged on Cas's hand and started walking again.

Cas walked, but watched Dean closely. Dean _looked_ pleased to be going, but Cas remembered what Dean had said about trying to impress him. He didn't want to go somewhere Dean wouldn't enjoy.

"We don't have to go to this just because I would enjoy it," he finally said before they made it out of the sculpture garden.

Dean shrugged. "I gotta admit, that improv thing you dragged me to was fuckin' hilarious. So I was thinking, I haven't _actually_ so much as glanced at Shakespeare since high school, it won't kill me to give it another chance, right?" He leaned into Cas's side as they walked. "I figure best case, I expand my intellectual horizons or some shit like that. Worst case, I spend a couple hours sitting outside on a nice night, staring at a sexy librarian and thinking about all the things I'm gonna do to him after."

"Win-win, indeed," Cas agreed, grinning at Dean as they walked down a small path toward some trees. His heart squeezed in his chest at the idea that maybe Dean was willing to admit that he wasn't too dumb to understand Shakespeare, and maybe Castiel had even had some role in convincing him of it.

He realized he had a bit of a problem on his hands.

Cas pulled his eyes away and had to fight the urge to look over at Dean again, hoping that Dean wasn't looking at him either. Because he was quite sure that his slight shock would show on his face and he really, really didn't want Dean asking about it right then.

He bit his lip as the pressure in his chest grew, willing himself to put all of this away and worry about it later. After the play. After they were back in his apartment, alone.

_Then_ he could deal with the fact that he had run out of denials. He was in love with Dean Winchester, kind of ridiculously in love, and three weeks was really not long enough for that to happen but there was simply no way he could have prevented it. His brain might still be coming up with reasons to be anxious and insecure, but his oblivious heart had charged blithely ahead.

It would make their conversation later either that much better or that much worse.

For now, he pushed it aside. This was easier than it could have been, because there was now one more obstacle standing in between them and that conversation.

"There's only one flaw in this brilliant plan," he said as they emerged from the trees onto Oak Street. He could see a low wall across the street, and the park beyond it, boasting a stage, tents, and hundreds of people swarming into the Heart of America Shakespeare Festival.

Dean's brow furrowed. "What's that?"

Cas shifted the quilt so that it was under the arm he was using to hold hands with Dean, and fished his phone out of his pocket with his newly free hand.

"Somewhere in there?" He motioned toward the crowd with the phone. "Are my brother and sister."

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're shitting me."

"No, Anna invited me to go with them tonight." He fumbled one-handed with the phone as they started walking again. "And since I'm guessing it would be even more awkward to randomly run into them and pretend I forgot they were going to be here, we should probably just face the music."

"Okay, then," Dean said. There was a sort of resigned determination in his voice, but his eyes were uncertain. "I guess I'm meeting the family. Can we pretend Anna and I never made any jokes about sleeping together?"

"I can, but I make no promises about her," Cas said with a snort, just before Anna picked up.

"Hey," Anna answered, "is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he replied, glancing at Dean. "Are you and Gabe and Kali still going to the Shakespeare Festival tonight?"

"Yes, we're already there. Why, did Dean cancel on you?" Anna sounded worried.

"No! No, but remember how I said he wouldn't tell me where we were going?"

"Yeah… Where did you wind up?"

Cas gave Dean's hand a quick squeeze before answering. "We're about to cross Oak."

"You… _Oh my god, are you serious?_ " Cas grimaced. The way she drew the words out, as though she couldn't believe she'd been given such an amazing gift, made him rethink the prudence of letting her know they were there. Then he had to pull the phone away from his ear when she shrieked, "Gabe! GABE! You won't believe this!"

As they started to cross the street, he could hear Anna and Gabe excitedly chattering, but she'd dropped the phone away so he couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

He held the phone in front of him and squinted at it as though it were responsible for his siblings. "I'm regretting my life choices."

Dean snorted. They'd reached the other side of the street, and they stopped, leaning against the stone wall. "You're right though, it'd be worse if they found us themselves."

"Or maybe it would have deprived them of the forewarning they need to plan their attack." Castiel put the phone back to his ear with a dark look at Dean. Maybe it would have been better to suggest they go somewhere else, but it was too late now.

Anna got back on the phone, and they worked out that Dean and Cas would meet Anna and Gabe by the drinks tent. Apparently they'd already staked out a spot to watch the play, and Kali would be there guarding their things.

By the time he shoved the phone back into his pocket and Dean tugged him close, his stomach was starting to twist unpleasantly. He hadn't exactly given Dean a choice in what was happening, and they weren't even actually a couple yet. It was far too soon to railroad Dean into meeting his family.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I shouldn't have sprung that on you." He could feel himself tensing up, from his forehead to his shoulders, down to his hand clutching Dean's quilt. "You don't have to meet my siblings if you don't want to."

"Dude, you're the only one in this situation who didn't actually plan to go to this play tonight, so I don't think you can be accused of springing anything on anyone," Dean said, rubbing the back of Cas's hand with his thumb. His smile was easy and genuine, and Cas's stomach unclenched ever so slightly. "Hey, seriously, it's fine." Dean kissed the spot between Cas's eyebrows where he knew there must be deep lines. "Anna and I have already half met and got along fine, and how bad can Gabe be?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Dean raised an eyebrow curiously. "Maybe later. For now, if he's an ass or he and I just don't seem to be hitting it off or whatever, we only have to talk to them for a couple minutes, right? We've got all this food to eat before the play starts, after all."

Cas nodded. "This is really okay with you?"

"Is it okay with _you_?" The uncertainty from earlier crept back into Dean's eyes. "I mean, I know when we hooked up in Chicago you didn't exactly think you were picking up someone to take home and introduce to the family, so I'll understand if that's not where you're wanting this to go—"

" _Dean_." It came out sharper than Castiel intended, but he couldn't listen to Dean finish that thought. He stared into Dean's eyes, hard, searching for anything to indicate that this was anything other than Dean's low self-esteem tripping him up again. All he found was worry, nothing to say that _he_ was the one who'd terribly misread things between them. "You don't honestly think that I see you as 'the guy I hooked up with in Chicago,' do you? That was three weeks ago. I—I thought, at least, that things have been going really well. I'm sorry if I've said or done anything to make you think—"

"No! Shit, no, Cas." Dean let go of Cas's hand in order to slip an arm around his waist, then closed his eyes as he leaned their foreheads together. Cas found himself hugging the quilt to his chest like a child with a teddy bear. "You haven't said or done anything wrong. That was stupid. I'm just a little nervous, but not about that, okay? Not really."

"You have nothing to be nervous about," Cas told him with certainty. "Anyone who gets along well with me will get along with my siblings. Yes, they will give you shit and pretend to be judging you more harshly than they really are and probably ask you invasive questions just to see if you'll answer them, but—well, okay, maybe you have a _little_ bit to be nervous about. " He was gratified when Dean laughed. "But not whether or not they'll like you."

"So is answering or not answering the invasive questions the right way to respond?" Dean asked as he took Cas's hand again.

Cas hummed thoughtfully. "That probably depends on the question."

As they made their way with the crowd into the park, Castiel's mind kept circling back to what had just happened. It should have been a good thing—it was nice to know that he wasn't the only one with insecurities here. That meant that this wasn't just him putting Dean up on some pedestal, hoping pathetically for a relationship while Dean saw him as little more than a diversion. But even so, the fact that Dean could think even for a moment that _Cas_ saw _him_ that way was upsetting. Maybe this wasn't nearly as solid as Cas had thought, or maybe Cas was being more distant or less affectionate than he realized. If he had that little self-awareness, maybe he was misjudging Dean's feelings as well.

He took a deep breath and squeezed Dean's hand as they made their way toward the drinks tent. _Now you're just contradicting yourself_ , he mentally scolded. _If you were overestimating his feelings, then he wouldn't have any reason to be insecure about yours._ Incredibly, the admonition actually managed to make him feel better, helped along by the warm weight of Dean's hand in his and the smile Dean gave him when they bumped into each other trying to avoid a small child that ran past.

Within moments, they were in sight of the line for drinks, and when Castiel spotted his sister's red hair he steeled himself.

"That's them, right?" Dean muttered in his ear, but before Cas could reply Anna saw them and started waving.

"Too late to run now," he replied as he waved back.

Anna poked Gabe, who turned and saw them. He waggled his eyebrows as he smirked at them, and Cas suppressed a sigh as they approached the line.

When they got there, Anna was staring unabashedly at Dean, wide-eyed.

"Damn, you're even prettier in person," she breathed as she held out a hand for him to shake.

Cas was endlessly amused as he watched Dean turn on the charm for his sister.

"You've got no room to talk there," Dean replied smoothly, and there was the flirtatious grin that was used so effectively on waitresses and bartenders. He even took her hand and kissed it rather than shaking it. Cas rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh.

Gabe, on the other hand, didn't look terribly amused, his eyes narrowed as he watched the scene.

"So you always flirt with your dates' sisters right in front of 'em, Romeo?" he asked, and Cas let out an amused snort.

"Thank you for defending my honor, Gabriel," he said, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, "but I wouldn't say he's flirting, per se. That's just his default setting."

"Hey!" Dean said, but then he stopped, looking thoughtful. "Okay, yeah, fair." He turned the same smile on Gabriel, letting his eyes rake up and down his body. "Why, you feelin' left out, blondie?"

"Now, that's more like it," Gabe replied, bouncing cheerfully on the balls of his feet.

"Anyhow, technically Anna started it," Cas pointed out.

Anna shrugged. "It's true," she told Gabe. "I tried to steal him over text."

"Hey! You said we weren't gonna talk about that!" Dean said quietly, smacking Cas's arm with the back of his hand.

Cas smacked him back. "That was before you flirted with my sister _and_ my brother right in front of me," he replied, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

"Hey, like you said, I can't help it. I'm naturally charming." But the smile Dean aimed at him was soft and sweet in a way that his leering at Anna and Gabe hadn't been at all. Cas found himself returning it almost reflexively.

Dean's eyes were too easy to get lost in, because Cas didn't even realize they were staring until his siblings spoke up.

Anna just cooed, but Gabe let out a thoughtful " _Ohh_ " that pulled Castiel's attention away from his date.

"Oh?" He frowned at his brother suspiciously.

"Well, I get it now," Gabe said with a shrug, as though that explained everything.

"Get what?" Dean asked, sounding as dubious as Cas felt.

"If loverboy here usually looks at you like _that_ —" he flapped his hand around, motioning between Cas and Dean, "—then I get why you wouldn't care if he looks at everyone else like he was looking at Anna."

Cas felt his cheeks heat, and he rolled his eyes to mask his embarrassment at his brother's somewhat uncharacteristic perceptiveness.

"Thank you, Gabriel, for deciding that because it now makes sense to _you_ , I am allowed to continue not feeling threatened every time Dean talks to someone."

In his rush to deflect, he barely kept himself from saying _my boyfriend_ instead of _Dean_. And wouldn't that be a great way to bring the date to a grinding halt? Even if he was reasonably confident that by the end of the night he'd be able to say that, he didn't particularly want to have that conversation in front of his siblings while waiting in line for beer.

"Calm down, he's just trying to say you two look cute together," Anna said with a grin. "Which you do."

"So Dean," Gabe jumped right back in, once again casting a critical eye on Castiel's date, "free play, looks like probably food from home—if you look at my brother like that, why are you taking him on such a cheap date?"

Luckily, Dean hesitated for just a second to look offended before opening his mouth to reply, so Cas was able to get there first.

"If you must know, this choice of activity has personal significance for us. And when did you start judging people based on how much they spend? It must have been sometime _after_ you took Kali on that free brewery tour for your very first date." He looked pointedly at Dean. "Without bothering to check first whether Kali even likes beer."

"Spoiler: She doesn't," Anna added, smirking at Gabe as Dean laughed.

"Laugh all you want, it scored me a hot wife who may not like beer, but _loves_ pinching pennies," Gabe retorted. "Without that brewery tour, I may have never gotten my financial act together enough to open the bakery."

"You didn't," Anna pointed out. "Kali having _her_ act together doesn't mean that _you_ do."

"Exactly! I'd run that place into the ground! You have _no idea_ how much money I would spend each month on stupid ideas for new products if she didn't reign me in. And forget about paying the bills on time." Gabe waggled a finger at Castiel. "That cheap date was the perfect way to attract a cheap wife, which was exactly what I needed. Let that be a lesson to you."

"So… what you're saying is, this date is a _great_ idea," Dean said, a note of triumph in his voice. Cas smiled to himself as he looked to his brother for a reaction. He and Dean were holding hands again by then, and he leaned against Dean's shoulder, feeling contentment spread through him when Dean leaned back.

" _No_ ," Gabriel insisted, "I'm saying… you should…" He glared at Dean for a second before snapping his fingers as his eyes lit up. "Do as I say, not as I do! I'm sure these two would both agree that you should _never_ do as I do. Which means you should be _spoiling_ my baby brother."

Cas groaned and turned his head to rest his forehead on Dean's shoulder.

"Ignore him," he muttered, but Dean was already sliding an arm around his waist to pull him close.

"Oh, don't you worry about that." Cas could hear Dean's cocky expression without looking up from his shoulder. "He'll get whatever he wants once we get back to his place tonight."

Cas snorted. "That was terrible," he muttered. But terrible or not, it was successful in provoking Gabriel, which Castiel assumed was Dean's goal.

"Gag me with a spoon," Gabe said. He rubbed at his lower belly. "The nachos I had for dinner already aren't sitting well with me, I don't need to hear that kind of shit on top of it. My baby brother is a snow white virgin and will be until his wedding day, and if you try to tell me otherwise I will kick your lily-white ass, five inches taller than me or not, pretty boy."

Dean raised his eyebrows, considering that. "Well, technically…" He caught Cas's eye and shrugged one shoulder.

Cas nodded. "Yes, depending on how narrow a definition of virginity you're using…"

Anna snorted, trying to conceal a laugh behind her hand.

"Yeah, yeah, fascinating," Gabe said, rolling his eyes at Castiel. But then he suddenly turned to Dean, his gaze sharp. "So tell me, Dean-o, how did your last relationship end?"

"Uhhh…" Anna was casting slightly panicky glances at all three of them.

Cas didn't glare at Gabe, because he hadn't told him much about Dean yet so there was no way for him to know that that was really not an okay thing to just come out and ask him, but it was close.

"You don't have to tell him anything you don't want to," he told Dean softly, eyebrows pulling together a little in concern.

Dean sighed, but he didn't even break eye contact with Gabe.

"My wife died," he said simply, and just let it hang there, suspended in the matrix of awkwardness that suddenly filled the air.

Cas held Dean's hand tighter and watched Gabe warily. Gabe was an ass, but he wasn't a _real_ ass. Cas knew he would pull back. After blinking at Dean a couple of times, he glanced at Cas and Anna and no doubt discerned from their expressions that no, Dean wasn't fucking with him.

"Shit, man, I'm sorry—"

Dean shook his head. "It's fine, you didn't know. Look, dude. I'm a big brother, too, I get it. Ask me whatever you wanna ask me, say what you need to say. But I promise you, I'm not a total asshole. I mean, I'm kind of an asshole, but from what I hear, so are you, so we're even. Cas, on the other hand, is awesome, and you should know that I am totally aware of that." Cas rolls his eyes, but Dean just tugs him closer to his side. "And I'm not here to play games or mess with his head or anything, okay?"

Gabriel inclined his head diplomatically. "Fair enough, fair enough."

By that point, they'd reached the head of the line, so they all busied themselves buying beer and wine and water.

"Well, good to meet you in person, Anna," Dean said with a sincere and not at all flirtatious smile as they all moved off to one side. "Gabe—well, guess I had to meet you sooner or later, good to get it out of the way."

Dean and Gabriel exchanged amused looks. "My thoughts exactly," Gabe replied, putting out a hand for Dean to shake. "But just so you know, I'm not through with you yet."

Cas couldn't suppress a small smile. He could tell that Gabe really wasn't through—after Bartholomew, he'd probably want a chance to vet Dean much more thoroughly, probably over dinner—but he seemed content enough for now. It was the best Cas could hope for.

"We should find a place to sit," he said. "I'll talk to you guys later, okay?"

Anna gave him a quick hug and Gabe ruffled his hair as obnoxiously as possible before they headed off toward their own seats.

"See? Nothing to worry about," he said as he and Dean made their way toward a bit of grass on the other side of the park big enough to hold their quilt and a few other people.

"Psh, says you. Pretty sure he's still gonna run a background check on me."

"Mmmmm, yes, when he finds that string of homicide arrests he might be concerned, but don't worry, I'll point out to him that they've never managed to convict you." Cas bumped Dean's shoulder with his own as they stopped in the small clearing.

Dean's eyes sparkled with amusement as he took the quilt from Cas and started to spread it out.

"Good to know you've got my back, Cas. I take it I can count on you next time I need a getaway driver for a bank heist?"

"I like to think my talents lie more as a fixer, but I'm happy to provide whatever services are needed."

Dean leaned in as they made themselves comfortable on the quilt.

"Well, I'll have to think about what services I might be in need of later tonight, then," he murmured right into Cas's ear, letting his lips brush over the hinge of Cas's jaw as he moved away.

As much as Cas wanted to pull Dean right back in and strongly urge him to do the same thing right down the side of his throat, they were at a family-friendly outdoor public event and that would not be appropriate behavior even if one of them were female. So he had to content himself with pressing up against Dean's side as he reached across him to grab a beer.

As Dean started unpacking the meal he'd brought, Cas felt his phone vibrate with a text.

**From: Anna**  
OMG Cas he is so in love with you. Like so, so in love with you.  
I bet he'd follow you absolutely anywhere like a puppy dog with hearts in his eyes.  
I'm so happy for you guys.  
Btw, I think Gabe likes him more than he's willing to let on.

**To: Anna**  
Not sure about the puppy dog bit but thank you. :)

"Well, Anna likes you," he reported, sliding the phone back into his pocket. No need to note Anna's exact opinion about Dean's feelings for him. "And she thinks Gabe does, too."

Dean grinned at him as he unwrapped turkey sandwiches with bacon, avocado, and goat cheese on some kind of thick, grainy bread. "I liked them, too. I wouldn't mind hanging out with 'em sometime. Even if Gabe is gonna grill me."

Cas ducked his head and smiled down at his beer, thinking there might be hearts in _his_ eyes at the thought that Dean was thinking about a future where he hung out with Cas's family.

In addition to the sandwiches, Dean had brought homemade potato salad and slices of cherry pie he'd apparently baked himself. When Cas told him it was as good as any restaurant meal, he wasn't lying, even if Dean couldn't take the compliment.

As they ate, Cas explained the plot of the play to him, watching with amusement as Dean's expression twisted in disbelief.

"The fairy king is pissed at his wife, so he pays off some crazy asshole fairy to make her fall in love with a donkey, and while crazy asshole fairy is at it, he fucks with some random people just for the hell of it? Is most Shakespeare that fucked up?"

"They don't all involve donkeys or love spells, no. But the comedies are basically all people being in love with the wrong person and dick jokes," Cas explained, licking goat cheese off his finger. "The tragedies are just everyone dying and more dick jokes."

"I can respect that."

The play started soon after they finished their food. Castiel had seen a couple of different productions of A Midsummer Night's Dream before, as well as studying it in the Shakespeare class he took in college, so didn't need to pay very close attention to keep track of what was happening and enjoy the play. Instead, he spent much of his time watching Dean.

Dean was clearly enjoying himself. Occasionally he'd lean close to ask a question, though a couple of those times Cas suspected it was more an excuse for them to nuzzle at each other's ears than something Dean actually didn't understand. He definitely didn't mind.

When they settled back in after intermission, the sun had fully set; there were still plenty of lights on around the park, of course, but it was significantly darker than when they'd arrived, giving their little quilt a more romantic atmosphere and a bit more of an illusion of privacy. Dean pulled Cas in against his front, wrapping his arms around Cas's waist and resting his chin on Cas's shoulder. Cas let himself relax back into the embrace, even if it did make it harder to watch Dean's reactions to the play. It was more than worth it for the way Dean's face pressed against his neck or behind his ear, and the way he could feel Dean's chuckles reverberate through his back.

They were getting close to the end of the play, in the middle of Pyramus and Thisbe, when Castiel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it just far enough out to see who was calling, then all the way out when he saw that it was Anna. Why would Anna be calling him while the play was still going?

He frowned at the phone and showed it to Dean, who grunted in confusion and released his arms from around Cas's waist. Luckily, they were sitting close to one edge of the crowd, so it wasn't too hard for Cas to get far enough away that he didn't think he would disturb anyone.

"What's going on?"

Anna's voice was a little shaky when she answered. "So, um, did you hear that siren a few minutes ago?"

"Yeah…" Everyone around them had murmured a little when an ambulance pulled up outside the park, just far enough away that it didn't completely drown out the play (at least, not on the far side where they were) but close enough that it was clearly for someone at the festival.

"So, that was Gabe." Anna was trying hard enough to sound cheerful that Cas wasn't terrified, but she was failing enough that he was worried. He could almost see her gnawing on a thumbnail.

"What do you mean, that was Gabe?"

"Pretty sure his appendix burst," she said tersely, false cheer gone now. "I'm sure he'll be fine, but, y'know. Kali went in the ambulance with him, I'm heading to my car right now to follow. Apparently he's been having appendicitis symptoms for two days, but he kept writing it off as something else. Idiot. At intermission he was feeling like shit and Kali almost took him home, then a bit ago he tried to go to the bathroom and collapsed halfway there."

"Christ," Cas said, running a hand through his hair. Of course, plenty of people were fine after a ruptured appendix. But it was still something you _could_ die from, especially if you're the type of person who will ignore life-threatening symptoms rather than see a doctor. Which Gabe was. "What hospital?"

"St. Luke's on Wornall. They're probably already there, it's like a block away. Kali's the one who insisted we call an ambulance instead of getting him there ourselves, she's convinced it'll get him seen faster."

Cas looked toward the stage, where Puck was giving his final monologue. "The play's almost over, I'll be there as quickly as I can."

"Part of me wants to say don't cut your date short, but—"

"Anna, this is an emergency. Dean will understand."

The audience broke out in applause, and he had to move further away to hear anything. He saw Dean making his way over to him.

"I know, I just—you guys are so cute together, I really want you to go home and confess your undying love for each other! But I'm also scared, Cassie. I mean, he'll be fine, right? But…"

"But he might not be, and you don't really think I'd be able to enjoy the rest of the evening while waiting for updates on whether or not my brother is going to survive emergency surgery, do you?"

Cas happened to say this just as Dean got to him, causing Dean to yelp, "What?"

"I'm at my car," Anna said, "let me know when you get there, okay? I'm sure he'll be fine." She didn't sound as confident as she was clearly trying to sound.

Once he got off the phone with Anna, he explained the situation to Dean.

"Do you want me to take you back to your place first to get your car, or just drop you at the hospital?" Dean asked, unprompted, as soon as he heard what had happened. His hand slid over the back of Castiel's neck, his fingers scratching at the hair there. Cas felt his shoulders relax at the touch.

Cas leaned forward to rest his head on Dean's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and sighing in relief when Dean did the same. It had been so long since he'd had someone to hold and comfort him at times like this. Even when Bartholomew was pretending to be his, he'd always been the sort who disappeared when things got tough.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. He sounded miserable even to his own ears. "I know we had more planned for tonight."

"Dude, don't apologize," Dean said, continuing to run his hand through Cas's hair. "Trust me, if you were the kind of person who could ignore his brother being rushed to the emergency room, I wouldn't be interested."

They gathered up the quilt and the cooler and started to make their way to the park exit—not an easy feat, given that the entire crowd was doing the same. They talked about the play as they went; which actors they thought had done the best job, the colorful set design. Dean had definitely enjoyed it, even more than he'd expected to.

They walked quietly back through the sculpture garden to the parking garage. Cas thought about trying to have his planned talk with Dean right then, or maybe in the car. But it would be so rushed, and it wasn't something he wanted to be colored by the evening's downward turn. It could wait a few more days; he was fairly confident by that point that Dean wasn't going to meet someone else and drop him in the next week.

"So am I taking you home or to the hospital?" Dean asked again as they approached the car.

"Might as well just drop me off at the hospital," Cas said with a shrug. "Anna can take me home later."

"I can do that."

"Crap," Dean said as they pulled out of the garage. "When am I gonna get to see you again?"

"You're camping with Benny the rest of the weekend, right?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, leaving in the morning and not getting back til late Sunday. Well, not super late, but too late for a date afterward," Dean replied. "And you—" He slid his hand onto Cas's knee. "You've got some crazy shit all week, right?"

Cas snorted. "Running two different camps, one in the afternoons and one in the evenings, and half our normal library volunteers are on vacation this week. And Charlie, of course."

"Right! So I'll definitely see you Thursday!"

Cas smiled at Dean's enthusiasm. "If you're still planning to be there. Sometimes with a visit like this, some of us go out with the author afterwards. If Charlie is up for that I'm assuming Hannah will go too, you're welcome to join us."

"Can't stay out too late, but yeah, I could probably a grab a quick drink or something. Then do you maybe wanna get together Saturday night?"

They were pulling into the hospital already; it really was only a couple of blocks away.

"Saturday works for me. Maybe plan to just come over to my place, get takeout, watch something on Netflix?" At this point, he was bound and determined to have this damn relationship conversation, and this way they could get it out of the way first and then do whatever the hell they wanted the rest of the evening. Like, each other.

"That's perfect," Dean said as he pulled into a parking spot near the ER entrance. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

Cas leaned over and kissed him.

"It's bad enough that our date has to end this way, let's not end it actually sitting in a hospital waiting room, okay?"

"If you're sure," Dean said softly, stroking Cas's jaw with his thumb. "Let me know how Gabe's doing, okay?"

"I will." He kissed Dean one more time to keep anything incriminating from spilling out of his mouth. "Have fun camping."

Dean waited until Castiel got inside to pull away, which was a sort of ridiculously gentlemanly gesture but made Cas smile anyhow.

Two hours later, he was in the waiting room with Anna and Kali when his phone rang. When he saw it was Dean, he felt a familiar thrill run through his chest. He'd been planning to text Dean when he got home, but for some reason he hadn't expected Dean to call to check on him. Since there were signs warning against cell phone usage everywhere, he ducked outside to answer.

"How's it going there?"

"Well, his appendix is definitely ruptured. They're going to put him on IV antibiotics overnight to try and clear up some of the infection that was in the appendix and is now _out_ of the appendix, then operate tomorrow or the next day. We're waiting for him to get transferred from the ER to a normal room, then we'll head home."

"Well that's good, sounds like he'll be okay if it's not, like, an 'oh shit we gotta operate right this second' kind of situation."

"Yes." Cas rubbed at his temple, where a headache had been threatening to form for the past half hour. "I now know far more about appendicitis than I ever really wanted to. Apparently in some cases they keep people on antibiotics for weeks before operating, but his isn't stable enough for that. The antibiotics will keep him from developing sepsis or anything before the surgery, though."

"How are you guys holding up?"

Cas grunted. "Honestly? My adrenaline crashed an hour ago, and now I'm tired and headachey and as much as I know I wouldn't actually be happy anywhere but here, I'm wishing I were back at my place with you."

"You in the hospital waiting room right now?"

"Um… no?" Cas tilted his head to one side. Kind of an odd question. "I'm just outside the door, actually. You're not supposed to use cell phones in there."

"Ahhhh. So, it wouldn't be _that_ embarrassing for you if I started telling you all about what I wish we were back at your place doing right now."

"No, but it would be more fun if you could wait a half hour 'til I get home."

"It's a deal."

—

The next few days were every bit as insane as Castiel had expected them to be—only moreso, now that his work responsibilities were compounded by visiting and helping out with Gabriel.

He didn't get to talk to Dean again until Dean got back from his camping trip Sunday night, but after that they managed to talk every night again. Unfortunately, Cas was pretty much always exhausted when they did, so they weren't very long conversations (and they certainly didn't manage to have phone sex again after Friday).

Luckily, this all meant that the week also went by fairly quickly, and before he knew it it was Thursday and he was sending the kids from his Lego Robotics camp home. Once they were gone, he made his way to the teen room and found Charlie already there, sitting at the signing table chatting with Hannah. They were engrossed enough in the conversation (or, possibly, each other) that they didn't notice him until he was right at the table, but as soon as Charlie looked up she jumped up from her chair to give him a hug.

There was still a half hour before the signing, so he sat down with them to pass the time. Fifteen minutes later, Cas felt a hand clap onto his shoulder and looked up to see Dean smiling down at him.

"Hey, Cas," he said.

"Oh, I see how I rate." Charlie was out of her chair like a shot, throwing her arms around him.

"Ah, whatever, I just saw you a month ago," Dean said, but he hugged her hard and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. Cas knew that despite the feigned bravado, he'd very much missed having his best friend around.

Dean sat down next to Cas, not touching but close enough that Cas could feel the warmth of his leg. They only had a few more minutes to talk, though, before people started wandering in and taking their seats. Hannah moved to a set in the front row while Dean headed to the back of the room to stand, and Cas got up to introduce Charlie.

Once Charlie was situated and started reading a chapter from the book, he joined Dean in leaning against a bookshelf behind the seated audience, standing just close enough for their arms to brush. By the time Charlie was finished reading the chapter, though, they'd leaned in so that their shoulders were pressed together. Yes, he was at work, so he couldn't let himself get any closer to that, but he couldn't bring himself to resist the natural pull toward Dean entirely.

When Charlie was winding up the Q&A portion, though, he had to push himself away from the bookcase and away from Dean so that he could help organize people into a line for the signing. He looked over his shoulder at Dean once only to find the man checking out his ass. At least Dean was trying to be subtle about it, so most likely nobody else realized that was where he was looking, but the intent in his eyes was pretty damn clear to Castiel. Cas hurried to finish organizing the line so he could get back to Dean's side.

"There are children present," he whispered, crossing his arms as he pressed his shoulder back into place against Dean's, "or, well, teenagers, at least. Horny teenagers who don't need encouragement in the form of some guy staring at the librarian's ass."

"Well _maybe_ ," Dean hissed back, "the librarian should try not having such a nice ass."

Just then, there was a quiet buzzing from Dean's pants pocket. Cas couldn't help but glance over as Dean pulled his phone out.

His stomach dropped. In the second before Dean turned the phone so that the screen was against his palm, Cas saw the caller's name:

_Cassie R._

"Shit," Dean muttered, "I gotta take this. I'll be right back."

He gave Cas's shoulder a brief squeeze as he left the bookcase and walked quickly toward the exit. He didn't seem to have realized that Cas saw who was calling.

For a moment, Cas just stared after him. This wasn't like the time in the bathroom—if he followed Dean to hear the conversation, it was very definitely eavesdropping. And anyhow, he was at work, he couldn't just run off.

But then, from where he was Cas could see that Dean had stopped in the entryway of the library, not gone completely outside, so he didn't technically need to _leave_. He looked over at the crowd and Charlie—everything was under control, the fans were waiting in an orderly line and everyone was happy. They wouldn't miss him going to the next room.

And if Dean was really going to _take a call_ from someone else he's dating _while he was with Castiel_ , then he'd just have to deal with a little eavesdropping. No, it wasn't a date, per se, since Cas was working, but it was an _event_ and they were there _together_ and the idea that Dean couldn't just call Cassie back in an hour was just _completely fucking ridiculous_.

So it only took a minute for Cas to go after Dean. He wanted to storm off, hands clenched and face scowling, make it very clear what he thought of this development—but again, he was _at work_. So he slipped away politely, not walking fast enough to attract attention from the other librarians.

By the time he go to the entryway, Dean was hanging up already. Cas stopped in the doorway, glaring.

"What was that?" He kept his voice low so as not to attract attention, but from the startled look on Dean's eyes he knew he'd made his feelings clear enough.

"Shit shit shit." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Cas, I gotta go."

"Excuse me?" Castiel couldn't believe what he was hearing. He hadn't worried about this Cassie person in at least a week. He thought he'd _won_. He hadn't thought for a second that Dean was actually still seeing her.

"Fuck." Dean muttered, brushing against Cas as he came back into the library. "Trust me, I don't _wanna_ go. I'm gonna go tell Charlie I'm leaving, okay? I'll be right back."

He gave Cas's arm a squeeze and was heading back off to the signing before Cas could reply. Cas was left there staring after him, his body cycling through reactions in quick succession. First his gut churned like he might throw up, then everything went cold, his skin breaking out in goosebumps and his insides numb.

He managed to walk a few feet to where he could see Dean with Charlie. Dean leaned in and said something into her ear. She looked disappointed, but waved him off like she thought he should go. Before he did, though, she cast her eyes around the room until she saw Cas through the doorway. Her face scrunched up in something like sympathy or concern or maybe just consternation—Cas wasn't really feeling up to figuring out other people's internal states just at the moment—and then she turned back to Dean, motioning toward Cas with her head as she spoke to him again. Dean said something, putting a hand over his face again, and Charlie rolled her eyes. Then she gave his arm a shove and he was walking away from her table, back toward Cas.

By that point, the cold and numbness had been replaced with heat. He had been so understanding all this time, so accepting of the fact that they weren't in a relationship and Dean could date other people, and now it was being thrown in his face. By the time Dean got back to him, every muscle in Cas's body had tightened.

"Dean, you need to be honest with me," he said, voice quiet but firm, "I don't care if you're seeing someone else, but if she's important enough to you that you're going to walk out on what is basically a date with me for her, I'm going to need a damn good explanation or I will just have to assume this means you'd rather be with her than me."

Dean's eyes widened, and he actually had the gall to look _hurt_ for a split second before he groaned and let his head drop into one hand.

"Cas, I am so fucking sorry. It's not like that, I swear. Look, there's—there's stuff I should have told you, and that's all on me, but now is _really_ not the time for me to explain. There's like, a whole conversation we need to have, okay?" He looked at Cas, a plea in his eyes.

"What does that even mean?" Cas growled, glaring.

Dean touched his arm, and Cas could tell that what he really wanted to do was take his hand. Even as angry as he was, a small part of him appreciated that whatever the hell else was going on, Dean was still aware that they were in his place of employment.

"Can I come over tomorrow instead of Saturday?" Dean asked. "Please? I swear I'll explain everything, and if you wanna kick me out after that then I'll go."

Cas's eyes narrowed. "How about tonight? I know we both have work in the morning, but I deserve an explanation, Dean. Can you spare a few minutes to come talk to me tonight, or is _Cassie_ going to keep you busy until morning?" Yes, it was petty. He didn't particularly care at the moment.

"I told you, _it's not like that!_ I'm not seeing anyone else." Dean sounded frustrated now, but his eyes were still pleading. "I swear to god, Cas, I haven't so much as _looked_ at anyone else since I met you, and if you can't just trust me on that for _one day_ then I don't know what to tell you. One day, Cas."

Castiel was so taken aback by Dean's declaration, he could feel his rage drop away as his face went slack. He blinked at Dean, the cognitive dissonance blanking out any response for a moment.

_He hasn't looked at anyone else._

_But he got coffee with an attractive woman._

_He's running off to be with some mystery woman._

_Would he really add such a bold-faced lie to everything?_

_There are so many smaller lies he could have gone with._

_But could that possibly be true?_

"Okay," he heard himself saying. "One day. Come over tomorrow."

Dean looked around, and he must have determined no one was looking because he leaned in to drop a quick kiss to Cas's temple.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then he was out the door.

Cas watched him go, dazed, and then returned to the signing. But instead of hanging in the back, he went up to the front where Charlie was signing the last few books.

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he waited for her to finish. What the hell had just happened?

Once she was done, he thanked everyone for coming and plugged the library's various social media outlets for teens. Then, his job being officially done for the day, he turned to Charlie.

The professional smile she'd been giving the leaving audience faltered as soon as she looked at him.

"Do you know where he went?" Cas asked, voice low. He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice; none of this was Charlie's fault.

"Yes," she replied, not much more than a squeak. She looked miserable.

"Can you tell me?"

"If he didn't, then I'm not going to," she said, shaking her head apologetically. "But I did tell him he's an idiot for hiding things from you. I've told him that a few times, actually. I swear, Cas, if he doesn't come clean after this then as his best friend I give you full permission to kick his ass."

Cas snorted. Just then, Hannah walked up behind Charlie and he remembered that they were supposed to get dinner.

"I'm not really up for going out," he said, ignoring Hannah's confused look and Charlie's sympathetic one. "You two will be fine without me, right?"

He said goodnight to them, then went to gather his things from his office. It wasn't late at all—not even eight o'clock—but suddenly he felt incredibly tired. As he made his way to his car, he wondered what explanation Dean could possibly have that would justify this. Part of him hoped it was a good one, but a small, petty part of him hoped it was a ridiculous, obvious lie so that he'd have a chance to lash out properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, originally Bartholomew was just supposed to have cheated on Cas then publicly humiliated him when Cas found him out. Then as I was starting this chapter, I thought, _hey, remember that time my aunt found out her husband had wives in two other states? Let's make Bartholomew more like that_. So now he's a supervillain, but believe it or not one that's sort of grounded in reality.
> 
> One chapter to go! Thank you for putting up with my slow updates.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo yeah, there was no way I was getting this all into one chapter. I realized that quite a while ago. I _think_ there will be one more, but if that goes over like 12K it'll get split into two.
> 
> The main issue is that I'm struggling with exactly how to end this with something that feels like an ending. Like I've said before, I have the next year of their life planned out and it was all gonna be one fic but since this is a nice clean arc and that stuff is more like a series of timestamps, I'm cutting it here and making a sequel. But that means that this was never actually intended to be the ending and now I have to turn it into one. If it still doesn't feel like an ending when it's done, just pretend like this whole series is one big fic. :P

Friday was not a fun day.

All the stress of the week caught up to Castiel at once, compounded by the storm of emotions Dean had left in his wake.

He still didn't know what to think of the previous night. He wanted so badly to believe that Dean hadn't wanted anyone else since they met, but then he was left completely bereft of any explanation for the entire Cassie situation. And whatever explanation Dean did manage to come up with, Cas was scared to believe it. Dean had definitely withheld information, very likely had outright lied to him; if he told Cas that evening that Cassie was just a friend, what reason would Cas possibly have to believe him?

By the end of the day, he'd accepted one thing: he couldn't simply trust Dean on blind faith. He didn't know if Dean really didn't deserve it, or if it was just his own history and baggage clouding things, but in the end it didn't matter. Whatever Dean told him that evening, if it didn't come with some form of proof it wouldn't be good enough.

The thought crushed him, even through the anger that was still simmering over Dean walking out of the library. Two days ago, he'd thought that everything was perfect. He'd thought that by the end of the weekend they'd officially be in a relationship, that depending on how things went maybe he'd tell Dean he loved him.

Now Dean had one shot to explain himself, and if it wasn't enough, it was all over.

He managed to push the whole thing out of his head long enough to get a little work done, but as soon as he sat down to eat his lunch, it came roaring back.

A new wave of annoyance coursed through him, directed at Dean, for having the _gall_ to ruin this. Castiel _wanted_ this so badly, wanted Dean, wanted things to work for them. How dare Dean himself get in the way of that.

As if all of those warring emotions weren't enough, there was something else nagging at him, some unidentifiable thought. But it was like a shadow at the periphery of his vision, skittering out of sight every time he tried to focus on it. Every time it started to pull at the edges of his mind, he felt what he could only describe as a sense of impending doom. He wrote that off as simply general dread over seeing Dean that night, and did his best to ignore the lurking thoughts.

He got a text from Dean that afternoon.

 **From: Dean**  
I was originally going to come by at 6 tomorrow, but you're working late again today right?  
Would 7 work better?

Castiel gritted his teeth as he typed out a terse reply that yes, seven would work.

He remembered their original plans—order in, watch a movie. Have the Relationship Talk first so that they could have Relationship Sex afterwards. He wished he could rewind to Thursday night and erase Dean leaving so they could just do all that.

Instead, when the kids in the Lego Robotics group went home at six, he sighed and braced himself as he, too, went home.

At seven on the dot, there was a knock at his door. Cas could feel tension running through every muscle in his body as he stood in front of it.

When he opened it, there was Dean, looking unfairly attractive but with worry creasing his forehead.

"Hey, Cas," he said quietly, ducking his head a little. Cas tried not to find him adorable.

"Come in," Cas said, stepping back to let Dean in. He stepped back far enough, hiding slightly behind the open door, to make it clear that he wasn't inviting Dean to kiss him or hold him. Dean didn't try—he looked too scared to make any sort of advance.

"Let's get this over with," Cas said, resigned, and led the way to the couch. As they settled, he started in before Dean could speak. "Look, we've only known each other for a month. I know we've never said anything about dating exclusively, and while I'll admit I had actually been hoping to have _that_ conversation with you this weekend instead of _this_ one, I've never resented that fact. I've known you were seeing someone else, and that was fine, but I really needed you to be up front with me about it, Dean." He finally looked Dean in the eye for the first time. Dean looked confused; Cas couldn't figure out how to take that, so he chose to ignore it. "I can handle taking things slowly and not jumping into a commitment. I can't handle lies and excuses and having the other person shoved in my face."

"No." Dean shook his head, pleading. "No, Cas, I swear." He took Cas's hand, and against his better judgement, Cas let him. "I don't know what made you think that before last night, but I swear to you I'm not dating anyone else. I haven't wanted to be with anyone else since the moment I saw you in that crowded panel room. I'm crazy about you, Cas, I need you to know that."

Cas looked at him silently, waiting for the _but_.

Dean sighed. "But I haven't been totally honest with you, and I'll understand if that's a dealbreaker. Either the dishonesty itself, or what I'm about to tell you. I hope I haven't ruined this, but if I have, I won't hold it against you."

Castiel was starting to feel impatient. He _wanted_ to believe that he was the only one Dean wanted, he _wanted_ to be able to bask in hearing everything he'd wanted to hear, so it only added to his frustration that he still couldn't do any of that.

"So?" He prompted.

Dean let go of Cas's hand and briefly put his face in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. After a moment, he lifted his head and appeared to steel himself as he sat there, hand dangling between his knees.

"I'm not dating Cassie," he finally said, looking at the floor. "She's my babysitter, Cas."

Cas tilted his head, his brain refusing to correctly parse the sentence for a moment. What did that even mean? Why would Dean need a—

"I have a son. He's four, his name's Ben. I know that's not what you signed up for, so like I said, I totally understand if we're done."

Dean looked miserable as Castiel felt his world slowly tip to one side. Everything he'd seen or heard or assumed over the past few weeks reorganized itself in this new context.

"You have a child?" It was a stupid question, but he felt like he had to make sure he was hearing this right, that there wasn't some underlying meaning he was missing.

Dean nodded.

All of Cas's anger, all his indignation, drained out abruptly. All they left behind was an aching sadness that Dean hadn't trusted him with this information.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Cas's voice was soft, undemanding.

Dean glanced up, a tiny spark of hope in his eyes at the fact that Cas wasn't kicking him out immediately.

"I was scared. Plain and simple. I've had really shitty luck with dating and having a kid. The first few times, I told people on the first date. Never got a second date. The first dude I went on a date with actually walked the fuck out on me when I told him. I signed up for some online dating thing, and I put it in my profile so I could avoid that, but that just attracted really weird divorced moms for some reason. Like, women who wanted our first date to be taking our kids somewhere together? Not a chance. Or one lady who didn't want to do that, but on our actual date she _only_ wanted to talk about our kids. Not just she only talked about hers, but she didn't give a shit about any part of my life but Ben.

"Then, of course, I got bullshit because I put that I had a kid _and_ that I was interested in men or women, and people apparently gotta put in their two cents about that. Not that I got a single guy messaging me except a couple wanting a one-time hookup." Dean sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I'm guessing if I were divorced and didn't have custody people would be more okay with it, but the fact that I'm all Ben's got—nobody wants to sign on for that, and I guess I don't blame 'em."

When he finally looked back up at Castiel, it was clear in his eyes that he'd given up on any hope that Cas would be different. That look made something in Cas's chest throb.

"It's not the kind of thing you could hide forever," Cas said carefully. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I know! I know, Cas." Dean's eyes were wide and full of remorse. "I'm sorry. I swear, I was planning to tell you this weekend even before last night happened—hell, I was gonna tell you _last_ week, but we all know how that turned out. Look, I didn't tell you the first night because I just don't tell people anymore, not for like one night stands or whatever. Why throw that wrench into something that's not supposed to be complicated? Then it wasn't a one night stand, and I didn't want to ruin a perfect weekend. I thought, I'll tell him the first time I see him in KC. Being home made it real, and if it was real then you needed to know. But we went out and—" he sighed, leaning back on the couch and scrubbing his hands over his face. "This is so stupid. You told that story about the guy who was looking for someone to have kids with, and I chickened out."

Castiel frowned. "Dean, that was an entirely different situation."

"I know! I told you it was stupid! But I was already freakin' out about telling you, and that just… put me over the line. And the dumbest thing is, obviously I knew that if you weren't okay with it, this wasn't going anywhere whether I told you then or later, but I… I haven't felt like this about anyone in a long time, and I just wanted to hang onto you for a little while longer. I know that's stupid and selfish. I decided that night that I'd tell you once I'd known you a month. That seemed like a good compromise—not quite long enough that it got totally insane to not tell you, but long enough that maybe if we were still dating we'd be talking about getting more serious anyhow."

Castiel couldn't quite bring himself to argue against that reasoning, remembering his own decision to talk to Dean after a month. It had made so much sense to him at the time; now he wondered if being more open with Dean about how he felt and what he wanted would have brought this out in the open sooner.

"But Cas, I wasn't gonna wait that long. I realized a couple weeks ago that I definitely wanted more out of this. But that was the night we ran into Gordon, and that whole mess just kind of threw me off. I'd already had my baggage dragged around enough for one night, I didn't want to add to it. So I decided I'd talk to you the next weekend, but then that didn't work out. And it's not the kind of thing I wanted to tell you over the phone, especially since there was a pretty good chance you wouldn't want to see me again once you knew. So… here we are."

Dean shrugged and looked down at his hands where they fidgeted in his lap.

Cas knew he should be angry that Dean hid such a huge part of his life from him. But even thinking about all of the anxiety he could have been saved if he'd known the truth didn't help him dredge up enough anger to make any kind of display worthwhile. It was more than outweighed by the relief that Dean wasn't hiding another lover, and that any dishonesty was in service of something like _this_ rather than manipulation calculated to hurt Cas. Maybe that was too low a bar, but he couldn't find it in himself to care just then.

"Can I see him?"

Dean's head jerked up, his eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"I assume you have photos?"

Dean just blinked at him for a few seconds. His confusion confused Cas, until he realized that Dean was still expecting him to end things between them. Not to express interest.

"Uh, yeah." Dean fished his phone out of his pocket. "You wanna see a picture of him? Really?"

"Yes," Cas insisted, nodding toward the phone that was still just sitting there in Dean's hand. Dean looked down at it, startled, as though he'd forgotten that he'd taken it out. He swiped at the screen a few times, and Cas could see it in his eyes when he found a picture of Ben.

He scooted closer to Dean on the couch, both to see the pictures better and because the foot and a half that had been between them this whole time was beginning to pull at his skin like a physical itch.

He looked at the phone, finding himself face-to-face with a very small copy of Dean, but with dark brown eyes and hair. He raised his eyebrows, startled by the extent of the similarity.

"Wow. That is certainly your child." He grinned at Dean.

Dean looked like he wanted to smile back, but was still confused. His eyes wandered back down to the phone.

"Yeah. He's a great kid." He flicked through a couple more photos, including a selfie of the two of them together, wearing identical grins. Castiel's heart throbbed in his chest when he saw it.

He looked back up at Dean and realized that if anything, he loved this man even more fiercely.

Some part of that must have shown on Cas's face, because when Dean looked up again, he drew in a startled breath.

"Aren't you pissed at me?" He asked quietly. "I lied to you, Cas. I kept the biggest, the most important part of my life from you."

Cas shook his head slowly. "Maybe I should be. But I'm not." He paused, taking stock of how he felt in order to choose the right words. He leaned in so that their shoulders were pressed together, and a tension inside him released at the contact. "Mildly annoyed, perhaps. Sad that you felt like you couldn't tell me. But I also understand why you didn't. I understand why you were scared. And honestly, I'd imagined so much worse so many times, it's a relief that you were hiding something… good."

Dean paused, looking like he was trying to decide what to say. "Good?" was all that finally came out of his mouth.

Cas smiled. "Of course. Dean, I can see your face when you look at him. I'm sure it's incredibly difficult being a single parent, but he's clearly a good thing in your life."

A smile finally twitched on Dean's lips. "Yeah. He definitely is." The smile faded quickly, though. "What d'you mean, you imagined worse? Why did you think I was seeing someone else before last night?"

 _Why_. There were two parts to that: things Dean did, and why Cas misinterpreted them. Cas realized he was going to have to talk to Dean about Bartholomew. Probably tonight. He wasn't exactly excited about getting into those details, but he wasn't sure how long he could talk around it. He sighed and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean sucked in a startled breath, but quickly relaxed into the contact.

"This is going to sound like I've been stalking you or something, but I swear it's all been accidental. The day I went down to Johnson County for a meeting, right after we met, on my way back I stopped at a Starbuck's. I didn't go in, though, because you were in there with a pretty girl. I knew it wasn't necessarily a date, but my brain couldn't help assuming the worst."

"Shit," Dean muttered into Cas's hair. "Yeah, that was Cassie. My old babysitter, Becky, she moved away a couple months ago and I hadn't gotten around to finding anyone else yet. Then suddenly I had a date scheduled with you and I had to scramble. I was interviewing her, basically."

Cas snorted. He was such an idiot. "Then, the day you came to have lunch with me, I overheard you on the phone with her. I didn't mean to, but the walls are thin." Dean groaned. "And just little things. You wouldn't spend the night at my place. You seemed to be hiding something when you had a 'family thing' a couple of weeks ago, and then apparently Charlie said something to Hannah about it being a party, which just confused me further. You never call me before nine PM, and then you're generally very vague about what you do between work and then. Obviously, I can see now how all of these things can be explained by the presence of a child, and I'm sure there are many other potential explanations, but all I could think of was that you were seeing someone else, since we hadn't talked about dating exclusively yet."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Dean said. He threaded his fingers through Cas's. "I sure as hell never wanted you to think that. I wish you'd said something; if I had any idea you felt like that I woulda come clean. And I'm—" He swallowed thickly. "—I'm sorry I didn't make it clear how I feel about you. I know I'm not great at talking about feelings, but I was hoping you could tell how crazy I am about you. I fell hard and fast for you, Cas, no one else has had a chance since I met you. I wish I'd told you that."

Cas closed his eyes. He'd spent so much time preparing himself for the worst, he almost didn't know what to do with this. Well, he did know that he needed to make one thing clear. He lifted his head to look at Dean, their faces almost touching.

"No, that part is not your fault, Dean. You've made your feelings very clear, and if I weren't…" Cas stopped himself before he could say _damaged_ or _broken_ or _so stupid_. He closed his eyes and searched for the right words. "When I'm with you," he tried again, his eyes still closed, "or even talking to you on the phone, there's no question in my mind that you care about me. I'm not sure I've ever been with someone who made me feel so adored." He hoped it was a less loaded word than _loved_. "It's only when you're not there that I start to doubt it, and that's really not your fault. I—I told you that my last boyfriend cheated on me, right?"

"Oh, shit," Dean breathed. Cas opened his eyes. "Fuck, so last night—I'm such an asshole."

"No, Dean. You had no way of knowing—there's more to it than that." He pulled his hand free of Dean's, but only so that he could slide his arms around Dean's waist, curling into Dean's side. Dean got with the program quickly, wrapping Cas tightly in his arms and burying his face in Cas's hair. Cas breathed in deeply, so relieved that Dean could still make him feel this safe. Then he let the breath out, and let the words spill out with it.

"Bartholomew didn't just cheat on me. He had a whole other life. Two whole other lives, at least. There was this woman, she didn't know about me, either. I met her, once, after Bartholomew and I were over, we had dinner together and compared notes. She was the one he introduced to his family and his coworkers, all these people I never got to meet. He always told me it was for my protection, that his family was awful. But Rebecca—she was the one he was going to marry and have kids with, and the only thing that saved her was the fact that he wound up in jail."

"What?"

"That was his third life. He had Rebecca, who was his girlfriend and then fiancee that the whole world knew about. Then there was me, the guy he strung along and manipulated into thinking he loved me without ever actually saying it. I didn't realize until later that he'd never even actually technically said that we were in a relationship, he just… chose his words very carefully to make me think what he wanted me to think. I'm not saying he wasn't a liar, but I'm convinced now that he told as few outright lies as he could, probably to make it easier for him to keep his stories straight. But behind both mine and Rebecca's backs, there was this other layer of just… hedonism. Sex, parties, drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. So many drugs, in fact, that when the police came to investigate a noise complaint during one of the parties he held at the apartment that neither Rebecca nor I knew about, Bartholomew wound up in prison on three or four separate counts of possession with intent to sell. Luckily, I had been rid of him for a few months by that point."

"Holy shit. Holy _shit_ , Cas."

"Yes, basically. Anyhow, that's why I'm kind of a paranoid, insecure mess. I'm not saying it was a good idea not to tell me, because I very much wish you had, but it's also not really your fault that I managed to talk myself into believing the worst. And since I _know full well_ that I'm a paranoid, insecure mess, I didn't want to ask you about any of it because I knew I was probably overreacting. And I didn't really… want you to know that I'm a paranoid, insecure mess."

"Christ, Cas. How do you not hate me?"

Cas pulled back and squinted up at Dean. "I literally just finished telling you that story specifically to demonstrate that it is not your fault that I've been assuming the worst this whole time. Why would I hate you?"

Dean's eyes widened incredulously. "It doesn't really matter if _that_ part's not my fault, Cas! Or that I didn't know you were victimized by some kind of sociopath. I still lied to you, I hid a huge part of my life from you—I did exactly what that asshole did! I don't get bonus points for having good intentions. They weren't even good intentions, I was just scared. I don't get bonus points for not having horrible intentions."

"What? Of course your intentions matter! No, they don't fix everything. They don't… _magically undo_ the anxiety I've been dealing with every time some little inconsistency crops up. They don't change how angry I was with you last night. But they do mean that you're not a malicious sociopath who is likely to continue lying to me just because you can. You're a good person who made a mistake. I can forgive a mistake."

"But you don't know that! Maybe I'm playing you right now. You don't know if I—"

"What I do know, Dean, is what it's like to be manipulated. Yes, some people are such good liars, they can make you believe everything's your idea from the start, but I think those people are actually quite rare. Bartholomew wasn't that good. He talked me into falling in love with him, he _convinced_ me to overlook the warning signs. I didn't realize I was being manipulated, and I didn't see the bigger pattern until later. But every time, in the moment, I knew he was talking me into something. It's just that by the end of a conversation, he'd convinced me so thoroughly that I didn't question it. I even thought I was lucky, sometimes, that he was so persistent and so persuasive, to save me from making a bad choice."

Cas felt his mouth turn up at one corner as he raised a hand to Dean's worried face. He let his knuckles slide up Dean's jaw before coming to rest at the corner, near his ear, while his thumb stroked the stubble on Dean's cheek.

"Name one time you have ever tried to talk me into doing something I didn't want to do."

Dean leaned into his touch, but frowned. "Last night? I talked you into letting me come here tonight to explain myself."

Cas grinned. "Okay, that's one. When you were backed into a corner and didn't know what else to do. Do you have another?"

Dean's eyebrows bunched together as he tried so, so hard to think of another example. Cas knew he wouldn't find one. He paid attention to things like that now, every time a date so much as tried to persuade him to pick a different appetizer. It was almost always totally benign, but somewhere in the back of his head he kept a tally, so that if things ever started to add up again he'd notice.

He let Dean think for a minute.

"Okay, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I probably _have_."

"You haven't." Cas shook his head, eyebrows raised. "You really haven't. You've made suggestions, you've asked for things, sometimes asked twice. Then you back off immediately, with no resentment, no guilt trips. You move on. This is something I notice now, Dean. It's reflexive, a self-defense mechanism. And you are possibly the least manipulative person I've ever met. Including myself."

"You're not—"

"Within a day of meeting you, I talked you into trying falafel and dragged you to an improv show you didn't want to go to."

Dean pulled Cas's hand down and held it in his, rolling his eyes. When he opened his mouth to speak, Cas got there first.

"I'm not saying I am a manipulative asshole, I'm just pointing out that I have good reason to believe you are not."

Dean kissed Cas's knuckles and sighed.

"You're not supposed to be defending me, Cas."

"Someone has to."

"So that's it, you're just—you're willing to forgive me?"

"I already have forgiven you. I need to be clear about this, though. I'm forgiving you because I understand why you did why you did, you weren't hiding anything malicious, and you didn't mean to hurt me. But I need to know that you'll be honest with me from here on out. If you ever were to lie to me or hide things from me knowing full well that you were hurting me, or if you were ever to cheat on me—those are things that I cannot forgive."

"I wouldn't expect you to! Hell, if I pull that kind of shit I'll kick my own ass. I'll submit to whatever Gabe and Anna wanna put me through. I'll—"

Cas put a hand over Deans' mouth. "Maybe we should save the flagellatory ideas for after you've actually done something worthy of retribution?"

There was a gleam in Dean's eye, and Cas could feel him grinning under the hand. Cas removed his hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Anyone ever tell you you're hot when you're wordy?"

"I'd like to see this online dating profile of yours sometime. Turnons: Big words, cheeseburgers. Turnoffs: Vegetables, Shakespeare. Which now makes even less sense when I put it next to the big word fetish."

Dean laughed, but it faded as he caught Cas's hand again.

"So, uh, sayin' you couldn't forgive me if I cheated on you… That kinda implies there's something there to cheat on." His eyebrow went up a little, his eyes hopeful. "Like, some kind of commitment."

Cas nodded. "If that's what you want. It's what I want."

"Dude, of course it's what _I_ want. And if you say you forgive me, I believe you—and I'm ridiculously grateful, believe me. But Cas, look." Dean sighed and looked down at Cas's hand, which he was still holding between his own, rubbing his thumbs along the back. "I'm gonna be a shitty boyfriend. I'll have to cut out of dates early, cancel on you at the last minute, I can't always spend the night even if I want to, I can't just hang out at a moment's notice. You deserve someone who can put you first, and I just can't. So I get it if you don't wanna deal with all that."

"Dean, I am not the four-year-old in this situation," Cas said gently. "I understand that you have responsibilities. I understand that your son is your first priority. Yes, I may be disappointed sometimes, and I may occasionally find it frustrating, but I would never be jealous or resentful, or hold it against you. If I'm disappointed or frustrated, it will be with the situation, not with you or Ben. I promise you, I will never be angry with you for being a good father, or for putting Ben's wellbeing before my feelings. I just need you to be up front with me about these things."

The relieved disbelief in Dean's smile was a little heartbreaking.

"You're really okay with having a… a boyfriend with a kid?"

Cas pressed in close against Dean's side, threading their fingers together.

"I want to be with you, Dean," he said, then paused. "I'm not sure how to say what I mean," he finally admitted, "without making it sound like your son is some kind of burden I'm willing to endure for the sake of being with you. But I want you to know that that is definitely not how I feel. I want to be a part of your life, whatever that life looks like. He's a part of that, just like—like being a college student is part of that. There might be some time when you can't go out because you need to study or write a paper for the next day, but that doesn't mean that I'd rather you weren't getting a degree. The same way I don't wish that you didn't have a child."

Dean nodded, and Castiel thought he'd maybe managed to get across what he meant.

"So the boyfriend part?" Dean leaned in, a small, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "That's where we're at now?"

Cas nodded. Their faces were close enough that their noses brushed as he did. When Dean closed the gap, Cas couldn't help but be reminded of their first kiss. That night, they'd started with something that was supposed to be meaningless, but by the time they kissed it had taken on a new life. This kiss held the same feeling of potential—Castiel had come home from work assuming that whatever they'd started in Chicago was at an end, and instead here they were, growing it into something new together.

When they pulled back from the kiss, Dean surprised Cas by pulling him closer, into a tight hug with his face buried in Cas's shoulder.

"You okay?" Cas asked after holding Dean for a moment.

"Yeah," Dean answered, muffled, "this is just not how I expected tonight to go." He shifted his head a little, just enough to speak more clearly. "I thought I'd be here ten minutes, tops, and then if you weren't freaked out by the kid thing you'd be so pissed off at the hiding it thing that I'd be out on my ass. I'd just—I'd kind of accepted that I was about to lose you."

"It's not how I expected tonight to go, either," Castiel admitted, shifting so that he could rest his head on Dean's shoulder as well, "but I'm glad we were wrong."

"Man, what were you expecting?"

"Well, I assumed you were lying when you said you and Cassie weren't dating. But that lie was already out there, so I expected you to dig your heels in and keep insisting she was only a friend, with some weak excuse for why you had to leave last night but no solid reasons for me to believe any of it. I thought—Oh." Suddenly, those half-formed ideas that had been teasing him from the edges of his consciousness all day came into sharp focus, and he found himself breathing harder.

"Cas?" Dean pulled back far enough to look Cas in the eyes. Cas forced the rest out.

"I thought the person I'd thought I was dating never existed in the first place. I thought I'd been completely wrong about you, because the person I believed you to be—the person you are—would never do something like that. And if—if I were that wrong, _again_ … I honestly don't know how I would ever trust anyone. Everyone kept telling me after Bartholomew that it wasn't my fault, that people like that don't prey on weak people, they take the person they want and exploit whatever weaknesses they can find, no matter how small. And when I met Rebecca, she was an intelligent and kind person; I certainly didn't view her as weak for being victimized. I'd never thought myself a particularly spectacular judge of character, but at least average, and when I put that whole thing behind me I somehow managed to keep believing that, to not fall into the trap of mistrusting everyone I met without cause. But if I did it twice in a row…" He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. There was no use dwelling on what could have happened. The important thing was that it didn't. "Thank god you're you," he finished.

Dean looked stricken. "I'm so fucking sorry," he said yet again, cupping Cas's face with one hand. "I swear, I'm gonna do whatever I can to make sure you never feel like that again. I never want you to have to worry that you were wrong to trust me."

Cas smiled, turning his head to nuzzle into Dean's palm. "I know." He paused, squinting in thought. "Speaking of weak excuses for leaving last night, though, what did happen? Is everything okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ben started puking his guts out, and he's not great at dealing with being sick with anyone other than family, so Cassie couldn't get him to stop crying and screaming for me. She felt bad for calling me, but I don't blame her. Especially since he managed to puke on _her_ the first time, so she was a trooper not to just call it a night right then."

"Is he all right? Should you not have come tonight? If you need to leave—"

"He's fine. I swear, kid brings some kind of bug home from daycare every other week but they hardly ever last more than a day. He was happy as a clam this morning, but I had to stay home with him anyhow since daycare has a rule that they can't come for twenty-four hours after throwing up. And anyhow, I already had plans for him to stay at Bobby and Ellen's this weekend, and he's okay with being with them when he's sick." A smile spread over Dean's face, and he pulled Cas closer. "Which reminds me, he's at Bobby and Ellen's for the weekend."

It took Cas a few seconds to process the significance of this fact. "So… you don't have a curfew?"

Dean shook his head. He kissed Cas again, first softly but then pulling him in and deepening the kiss. The important topics for the evening having been covered, Cas let out a tiny moan as his body immediately demanded more.

"I have a hot boyfriend," Dean said between kisses, "and no reason to be home by midnight. This night just keeps getting better."

Cas pushed Dean against the back of the couch and climbed on top of him, keeping their mouths sealed together as he did. Dean grabbed his ass immediately, but Cas somehow managed not to grind down into him, not wanting to rush this. But they only managed to make out for a few minutes before Dean's stomach rumbled, making them both laugh.

"We should order some food." Cas trailed kisses down the side of Dean's throat. "We do have all night, after all."

Dean made a pouty, dissatisfied noise. "Yeah, but you're on top of me _now_."

Cas sighed, then pushed back away from Dean's throat. "That can be fixed, you know." He laughed as Dean actually stuck out his lower lip in a pout. "How does this sound: we order Chinese and I'll suck you off before it gets here."

The pout disappeared comically fast. "Sold!"

Cas snorted as he climbed out of Dean's lap. He pulled out his phone to get to his favorite food ordering site.

"Oh!" Dean said, pulling his own phone out. "I should probably let Charlie know that I won't be needing her company while I drink away my heartbreak tonight. We made plans so I wouldn't have to be alone all weekend if this went pear-shaped."

Cas had spoken with his sister the night before, and now he remembered his promise to update her as soon as he could so that she would know exactly how hard she needed to break Dean's kneecaps. He sent her a quick text and then went back to perusing the Chinese menu.

 **To: Anna  
** That went well.

To his surprise, his phone rang a minute later as he was asking Dean if he'd rather have chicken or pork fried rice. He was confused to see Anna's name on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Oh my god, Cassie, I'm so sorry!"

Castiel pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a second as if it could explain.

"What? What's wrong?"

"How bad was it? Did he come clean, or just try to dig himself deeper?"

"What are you talking about? I just said it went _well_. Everything's fine."

Anna paused. "Oh. It actually went well? You weren't being sarcastic? It sounded sarcastic."

"Oh my god, Anna," he said, drawing a hand down his face. "No, I was not being sarcastic in my text, it actually went well." Dean burst out laughing next to him.

"Oh shit, is he still there? Shit, sorry, I'll go—wait, why were you texting me if he's still there?"

"We're ordering food, he stopped to text Charlie to let her know everything was okay, I thought I'd give you the same courtesy?"

"Ah. Well. Great, then. So he had a good explanation?"

Cas sighed. He felt a little weird talking about Dean while sitting right next to him, so he stood up to go get them drinks from the kitchen. Dean was still texting Charlie.

"Yes. He has a son, who got sick last night. Cassie is his babysitter."

"Whoa. Hold up. He has a kid? And he didn't tell you? Are you okay with that? I mean, both the having a kid and the not telling you?"

"I am fine with the former, and we have discussed the latter and I am satisfied that he never intended to hurt me and will be more open in the future. We can discuss the details later—can I get back to my date now? I'm being terribly rude to my boyfriend." Cas couldn't help smiling a little as he said the word.

"Wow. Wow, okay, yeah. You get back to your _boyfriend_. Who has a kid. But, Cas—I'm _so_ glad this worked out, you have no idea."

"Not half as glad as I am, I assure you."

They said their goodbyes and hung up as Cas opened his refrigerator.

He started to call over his shoulder, "Dean, would you like—" but the words _a beer or a Dr Pepper_ were swallowed up by a gasp when he turned from the fridge to find Dean standing a foot behind him.

"I see the ninja training is working out for you."

Dean snorted. "Sorry. I just—I had something else I wanted to say."

Castiel took in the nervous look on Dean's face and closed the refrigerator. Dean was smiling a little, so it didn't seem like he was about to deliver bad news, but after everything they'd talked about Cas still felt a little rattled by it. Then Dean slid his hands onto Cas's waist, and he felt himself relax at the touch.

"It's nothing bad," Dean assured him, "I mean, I don't think it is. I dunno, maybe after all that I'm about to scare you away, but hopefully if I'm reading things right at least it won't freak you out _too_ much—"

Dean's nerves were catching, and Cas's stomach started to tighten.

"Dean, just tell me."

"I just—I'm not great at talking about my feelings, but I was thinking about the stuff you told me earlier, about how it was with Bartholomew. And I don't want you to ever have to wonder where we stand, or how I feel about you. I don't want you to feel like you're guessing about that kind of thing."

Cas had to resist the urge to kiss him right then, just for picking up on such a small detail of his story. But he really, really wanted to hear what else Dean had to say.

"So I wanna make sure you know that, uh. That I love you. Hell, if I weren't already in love with you I definitely would be after tonight. And I know it's ridiculous and kind of crazy and way too soon, and we still have a lot to learn about each other, I mean, look at how much we learned about each other in the past hour, but even if I don't know everything _about_ you I feel like by now I know _you_ pretty damn well and I was half in love with you before we even left Chicago, and I've been wanting to say it for a couple weeks now, so I guess—"

Cas finally gave into his urge and kissed him, if only to save Dean the trouble of continuing to babble awkwardly. Dean only paused for a moment in surprise before his fingers were digging into Cas's sides, pulling him as close as possible. Elation thrummed through Cas's veins, and he tried to pour it into the kiss. The way the intensity ramped up after that made their earlier makeout session look like holding hands at a church picnic.

"That's crazy," Cas growled against Dean's mouth as he pushed Dean back against the kitchen island. "Ridiculous." He pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. "I love you so much."

Dean was smiling as Cas went in to kiss him again, but after a minute or two of Cas's hips pressing his into the island he was moaning instead. Cas dropped to his knees and started to nuzzle at the growing bulge in Dean's jeans.

"Thought we had a plan, Cas," Dean panted.

Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed it into Dean's hand as he started to mouth at Dean's pants.

"You finish the order, I have important business to see to down here."

Dean fiddled with the phone while Cas worked his way up to the button of his jeans with his tongue and teeth, taking advantage of the fact that he could use them safely through layers of denim as long as he kept the pressure light.

Dean let out a strangled sound as Cas started working on opening the button. "Thank god for online ordering."

Cas paused. "Good point. Call them."

"What?" Dean's voice came out just a bit squeaky.

Cas looked up at him calmly. "Call the Chinese place and place the order over the phone."

Dean stared down at him for a moment.

"You're such a dick," he groaned.

But he pulled his own phone out of his pocket and started dialing, looking at the website on Cas's phone for reference.

Cas closed his eyes for a second, unbelievably turned on by Dean's lack of resistance. He tried to keep his breathing under control as he unzipped Dean's jeans.

He pulled Dean's dick out and stroked it slowly at first, watching Dean dial. As Dean started to place the order, he swirled his tongue around the head. Dean stared down at him, wide-eyed, but kept his voice remarkably steady as he read their order off of Cas's phone.

By the time Dean was finished, Cas had moved on to taking the first couple of inches into his mouth, sucking and bobbing his head while he worked the rest of the length with a hand. Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as the person on the other end of the line spoke, but when he opened his mouth again there wasn't so much as a waver in his voice. Cas sucked harder, but no reaction.

"Uh… Uh, I'll pay with cash." The slight pause and repetition was the first indicator that he was at all distracted.

Finally, as Cas started fondling his balls, he hung up the phone and immediately let out a long moan.

"I hate you."

Cas pulled off and grinned up at him. "No, you don't. Although… I don't think I have any cash, so—"

"Dude, it's on me. Totally worth it to not have to read a fricking credit card number over the phone with you down there driving me crazy."

"Fair enough. But you did so well, Dean. You have no idea how hot that was."

Without warning, Cas took Dean back into his mouth, this time taking in as much as he could. Which was not nearly enough—he was going to need a lot of practice if he wanted to deep-throat a cock like this. Now he could get as much practice as he liked.

Dean moaned above him, and Cas glanced up to see his head thrown back, his knuckles white as they clung to the edge of the countertop.

Cas kept going until his jaw started to ache. As he pulled off, he tugged Dean's jeans down a little more. He kept working Dean's spit-slicked dick with one hand while he fumbled at the fly of Dean's boxers with the other. When he got Dean's balls out enough to suck one of them into his mouth, he could feel Dean's fingers comb through his hair.

"Yeah, Cas, fuck, just like that."

Cas squeezed a little tighter and pumped a little faster, moving his mouth down to lick just behind Dean's balls. He breathed in the musky smell, feeling the rasp of pubic hair against his tongue. He was starting to get hard himself.

His jaw was feeling rested, so he pulled back and, after picking a few pesky hairs out of his mouth, started licking the head of Dean's dick again.

"I'm almost there, baby, almost—"

Cas took him back down, swallowing the head against the top of his mouth and working it with his tongue. It wasn't long until his efforts were rewarded with a sharp grunt, Dean's hand tightening in his hair, and then a mouthful of warm bitterness.

Before Cas could even tuck him back into his pants, Dean was sliding down the side of the cabinets to sit on the floor with Cas.

"Jesus, Cas. C'mere." Dean wearily waved Cas, who had backed off a little to give Dean room to stretch his legs, over to him. When Cas was close enough, Dean slung his arms around his waist and slumped forward to lean his head on Cas's shoulder. Cas grinned into his hair, adjusting them slightly so that he could take Dean's weight against him.

"Gimme a couple minutes and I'll take care of you," Dean mumbled into his shoulder. "That orgasm was more intense that I expected."

"That Chinese place is fast," Cas replied. "Our food should be here pretty soon. Don't worry, I'm guessing you'll repay me and then some later."

Sure enough, the food came less than ten minutes later.They curled up on the couch with their takeout, and Cas made Dean show him more pictures of Ben.

He couldn't get over the soft look on Dean's face as he told Cas all about his son. So many pieces of Dean's life slotted into place, and Castiel was amazed that he hadn't even realized how much was missing. Dean was as relaxed as he'd ever seen him, clearly relieved and excited to finally get to share this with Cas.

"So, uh—that family thing I had?" Dean swiped to the next photo, showing Ben smiling up from in front of a cake. "It was Ben's birthday. We had a party at our house for his daycare friends, then we went over to Bobby and Ellen's in the evening for a smaller family thing. Cassie helped out with the party because holy crap, am I unprepared to deal with a dozen three- and four-year-olds taking over my yard."

Cas watched a video that someone else took (Jo, apparently, who was at both parties) of Dean and Ben battling with light sabers.

"You shouldn't let him win, Dean. He'll never develop his skills that way."

"Look, Yoda's the shit and all, but just because he's into hothousing baby padawans doesn't mean we all need our kids to master the force before kindergarten, okay?"

A few minutes later, they came to some photos of Ben sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, grinning. Over the course of several photos, he seemed to be grabbing at the steering wheel, gear shift, and radio knobs at random.

"Oh, I see. Helping your child master his natural force sensitivity is hothousing, but teaching him to drive at age four is just clean, wholesome fun, is that it?"

"Hey, it's a vital life skill. Or it will be, once he can reach the pedals. Although next time I'm paying closer attention, because when I started her up a few minutes later it turned out he'd cranked the volume _all the way up_ , holy crap."

When they got to Halloween costumes, Castiel valiantly did not make any embarrassing noises due to how adorable Dean's child looked.

"Is he a walrus, or—wait, is he a manatee?"

"Yep. Kid wanted to be a manatee. Don't ask me, I don't come up with these things."

"Where on earth did you find a manatee costume?"

Dean smiled proudly. "I found a secondhand elephant costume and got Ellen to cut off the nose, then sew the legs together and stuff 'em to make the tail. I woulda done it myself, but I have no idea how to sew. I should probably learn so I don't have to keep taking my shirts to Ellen when the buttons fall off."

Cas squinted at him. "You know, I was honestly impressed by the elephant thing, but not being able to sew buttons back onto your own shirt might make me take it back."

Dean perked up far too much at that.

"Hey, does that mean _you_ can sew the buttons back on my shirts? Because I've got a couple right now—"

Castiel nudged him. "Show me more cute child photos, Dean. We can set up a barter system for menial household tasks based on our personal skill sets later."

Dean put the phone away so it would be easier to eat, but they continued to chat about Ben. Castiel learned that he loved Star Wars (obviously), as well as My Little Pony and some show called Octonauts.

"Well, this week," Dean clarified. "He cycles through all these shows that are on Netflix or PBS Kids. At least most of 'em are educational, so I don't have to feel too guilty about letting him watch TV while I'm making dinner or doing homework and shit. He's a fuckin' squid expert, man."

Cas paused with a bite of food halfway to his mouth and craned his head up from where he was lazily slumped against Dean's shoulder.

"Squid?"

"Yeah, Octonauts is all about ocean animals, right? And they have separate episodes about the giant squid, the colossal squid, and like two other ones, I dunno man, there's a lot of squids out there. He likes the big ones best, though. We got a book about 'em out of the library a couple months ago and I think I still have that thing memorized."

"So you're a squid expert, too, then."

Dean snorted. "Dude, I think a thirty-year-old has a higher bar to pass for 'expert' than a four-year-old."

"I'm sure you know more about squid than I do. I know they're cephalopods, so they're probably smart. And… they have ink?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure when you meet Ben he'll be happy to give you a full lecture on 'em. I'll help him put together a PowerPoint." Dean stilled. "I mean… if you… do you want to meet him? Eventually?"

Dean sounded so hesitant and worried, Cas sat up and rushed to reassure him. "Of course. I assumed that was clear when I said I wanted a relationship with you. I don't see how we could date for more than a few months at most if I didn't want to meet him, and I don't tend to get into relationships if I think they've got an expiration date before they start."

Dean nodded, but he didn't look entirely reassured.

"Look, I should tell you… I don't know when that's gonna be, exactly. I mean, when I'll want you to meet him." He flinched a little, like he thought Cas would be angry at that. "It's not like I don't trust you or anything, I just—"

"Dean, that's fine," Cas said gently, taking Dean's hands in his. "I wasn't exactly expecting to meet him tomorrow. You're his father, that's entirely up to you."

Dean relaxed a little. "It's just—I honestly have no idea when that should be, y'know? I tried looking stuff up online, thinking maybe there was like some standard schedule for that stuff, but no. I found some people saying you should introduce someone to your kids the minute you get into a relationship, and other people saying you shouldn't do it until you get engaged. And those both sound pretty extreme to me, but there are people who say just about everything in between, too. And you're the first boyfriend or girlfriend I've had since Lisa, so it's not like I've done this before. I have no fuckin' clue, man."

"We'll figure it out," Cas assured him. "It's not like I know either, so I don't have any particular expectations here. Look, if I'm going to attend his high school graduation and he still doesn't know what I look like, there might be a problem. For now, I don't see why we should worry too much about timing."

"Okay," Dean said. "You'll let me know if you start to think it's, like, weird that you haven't met him yet or something?"

"Of course. I'll always try to be clear with you about my expectations for and satisfaction with this relationship."

Dean gave him an amused little grin, then looked away, shaking his head.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're just adorable."

Cas squinted at him until Dean rolled his eyes and explained.

"You kinda sound like you're responding to a survey on your experience with my customer service department. It's adorable."

Cas scoffed and stood up to clear away their takeout boxes.

"Well, if that's how you're going to be about it, then maybe I'll be _unclear_ about my expectations and satisfaction and see how you like it."

"Aw, baby, don't be like that." Dean leaned his head back over the back of the couch and watched Cas throw away the trash upside-down. "You know honest communication gets me hot."

"No, no." Cas put up a hand as he returned to the couch. "It's fine. I'll just make a few ambiguous statements that may or may not mean I'd rather you didn't spend the night tonight, and avoid all indications of whether I'm having a good time or not."

"Oh, I'll make sure you're having a good time." As soon as Cas was sitting down, Dean pulled him close and nuzzled under his ear. "Don't I owe you a blowjob?"

"Hm, I believe my satisfaction level with the evening is rising."

"That won't be the only thing rising." Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

"…And there it goes back down again."

"You set yourself up for that one."

Cas finally pulled Dean in for a kiss to shut him up.

They made out for a few minutes, then Cas started to lie back on the couch, pulling Dean with him.

Dean hummed and went willingly, but pulled away just as they were getting comfortable.

"You just don't want to admit that you have no one to blame for that preteen-level dick joke but yourself."

"I could have sworn you said something about a blowjob."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, you were all totally right. :P In Cas's defense, he doesn't know that Lisa has a kid in canon, so you all have a bit of an advantage. FYI, to say Ben is based on my son would be a vast understatement. From here on, almost everything Ben says or does (including the manatee costume and squid obsession, yes) is something lifted straight from my kid.
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience with these last few chapters, and thank you to everyone who keeps reading and kudosing and commenting!
> 
> P.S. My Dean/Cas Tropefest fic goes up Sept 12 - the next (last?) chapter of this will definitely not be going up before that. But keep your eye out for that one b/c I'm pretty excited about it.

**Author's Note:**

> I will add tags (particularly characters and sex acts) as they come up in future chapters.
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com)


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